


OUT!

by TheHaruWhoCanRead



Series: Coming Out Karasuno [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comedy, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Complete, Drama, Gay, Gen, LGBTQ Character, M/M, mostly canon compliant, one sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 104,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHaruWhoCanRead/pseuds/TheHaruWhoCanRead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JAPAN'S FIRST GAY ATHLETE COMES OUT!</p><p>Yamaguchi never expected to read THAT headline in Gay Japan News, but he about fainted when he scrolled down to the photograph. There--volleyball on his hip, naked from his Seijoh shorts upward and eyes pleading for readers to devour him--was the familiar face of Oikawa Tooru.</p><p>Oikawa? Gay? OUT?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Yamaguchi Grin

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Timeline wise, we're sitting somewhere post series 1 of the anime. I'm ignoring all that comes after in the show/manga from here on out because there's no way to be reactive enough to incorporate it into the story I want to tell. We're ramping up to the Spring High Prelims.
> 
> Gay Japan News is a real thing.
> 
> I've always been obsessed with fringe 'useless' characters like Yamaguchi because they have the sideways stories to tell. They're heroes given the chance. So here is Yamaguchi's.
> 
> IT'S REALLY IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER! This is a western take on homosexuality and coming out, and bears no resemblance to what it's like to be gay IN Japan. That's a whole other thing. This is a fanfic. I'm telling a pretty traditional western coming out story using Haikyuu as a framework. I've tried to be as culturally sensitive as possible; but understand that this is not an accurate representation of gay life in Japan.

Tadashi Yamaguchi only had eight percent battery left on his phone, and if Tsukki didn't hurry it'd soon be dead. He wanted to keep _some_ of it for the walk home. The sun had gone down, after all, and he might need the flashlight to see his way. He might need to call someone. Someone might need to call _him_.

Probably not, but that's how his luck worked. Today would be the one day his mother was frantic trying to look for him, forty-five missed calls in twenty minutes. She was a fragile sort of person. The kind that apologized to the computer whenever she had to shut it down. Even one missed call was enough to convince her he'd been kidnapped or killed.

And then his father. One voicemail, filled with the bitterest disappointment.

_You didn't answer the phone, Tadashi_ , he would boom. _And now your mother has died of worry and neglect_ . _I am selling all your things and sending you to boarding school in China._

Life ruined. No friends. No grasp of the language. He'd wind up working in a laundry, and the owner would pay him with rice and fresh cardboard to sleep on each night. His only prospects would be reaching the rank of deputy stain scrubber, because the laundry's chief stain scrubber was the kind of prodigy that only comes along once in a lifetime.

Dead at twenty seven. Cause of death: some kind of slapstick blunder. They would bury him out back, and on his headstone they'd be stuck for his name because they never asked for it.

_Here lies freckles_ , it would say. _He was quiet, wasn't he?_

Except in Chinese.

All that because Tsukishima dawdled in the club room, and Tadashi had run his battery down browsing the web.

Seven percent now.

He'd exhausted his twitter timeline and started following links he didn't even want to read. Nobody was on LINE—his address book was mostly volleyball club, anyway, and they were still making their way home. Facebook was dead. He dared not double the battery strain by watching any video.

He yawned and slumped backward.

Karasuno High was eerie-quiet at this time of night. Most of the staff were gone, club activities over. He thought he could hear something going on in the assembly hall, so he wasn't the _only_ person around for a thousand miles. He just felt like it.

At least the temperature was falling. A hot day was giving way to a breezy, cool evening. This afternoon's practice had been brutally physical, and the rivulets of sweat running down the back of his neck tingled in the cold air.

He checked his email. Nothing.

Six percent battery.

He closed his eyes and took a few breaths.

Maybe if he kept them closed long enough, a bunch of interesting tweets would come in.

He waited forever. Then just a bit longer, to be sure.

Three tweets.

Better than nothing.

Two were about a meet-up that he'd never go to at one of Miyagi prefecture's biggest LGBT groups. They didn't tweet much. He'd forgotten he was still following the account.

He'd added it a couple of years back, in amongst a bunch of foreign celebrities who were out of the closet and writers who wrote about gay characters. His twitter feed was a shrine to the people living like he couldn't—out and proud and comfortable, and not at all worried how their friends and family thought of them. They were brave, he thought. Braver than him.

They were honest with their Tsukkis.

Probably married to them. The bastards.

The other tweet was from the @GayNewsJapan account, and something about it looked weird.

He looked closer, just to be sure, and read the tweet three times over.

_Click for our exclusive with Oikawa Tooru!_

His heart skipped.

No way.

There was no way it was _that_ Oikawa.

He mashed his thumb on the link and waited for the page to load.

A box filled the screen to announce he had five percent battery left. He flicked it away.

Another lightbox followed, warning him he needed to be over eighteen to view the article. He threw a guilty look over his shoulder, saw the coast was clear, and used his fifteen year old finger to confirm he was an adult.

The headline just about leapt from the screen.

 

MEET OIKAWA TOORU – JAPAN'S FIRST OUT ATHLETE!

 

He tried to keep his mouth closed as he scrolled down the page. A full-length picture followed the headline.

It was Oikawa, all right.

He was naked except for his Seijou shorts and clutched a volleyball against his bare hip. His other hand ruffled his chocolate brown hair, roughing it up just enough to be utterly adorable _._ And then there was his face, fixed with a flirty smile that asked 'what if we spent the rest of our lives in bed together? Would that be okay?'

The cool air was useless. Tadashi felt his face get hotter than it had ever been during practice.

He read the lede line.

 

_On the day of his 18_ _th_ _birthday, we talk to Oikawa about what it means to be the first openly gay athlete in Japan, his plans for the future, and the all important question—is he single??_

 

It had to be some kind of fever dream. The heat had overwhelmed him at practice, and he was actually passed out on the court, delirious. Tsukki wasn't late. Oikawa wasn't gay. Certainly not _openly_ gay. Openly gay was a phrase Americans or Europeans used. Here, you kept that kind of thing to yourself. Nobody asked, nobody told.

Oikawa. The guy who was routinely late to matches because he was drowning in a tsunami of girls.

No way.

He pressed on through the article, and the interviewer droned on about what a difficult decision this must have been, and how nobody had done it before, and how Oikawa was so young. And Oikawa gave really articulate answers about how he felt it was time, how young people didn't have a problem with it these days, and how important it was to promote a safe and accepting culture in team sports.

Did he feel vulnerable, out there all by himself?

I'm not by myself, Oikawa said. There are lots of us. I'm just here to prove it's okay to be honest about it.

There was another picture—an action shot of Oikawa on the court, backlit by gym lights as he set the ball. Tadashi flicked up to the first picture, then back to the second, then back to the first one again. It _looked_ like him and _sounded_ like him. A few more minutes staring at the picture and he might be convinced. In fact, maybe he ought to save it, just in case—

“What on earth are you reading?” A deep voice nearly knocked him over.

A little gasp squeaked from him as he spun on the spot, shoving his phone into his pocket. Tsukishima was less than an arm's length away. Plenty close enough to have seen the phone screen, and tall enough to see over Tadashi's shoulder. How had Tsukki's giant feet managed to sneak so close without making a sound?

“Tsukki!” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. His mouth curled into the right shape so easily. This was his Yamaguchi Grin—the one he wore every day like he would a hat, or a scarf. He'd trained himself to put it on whenever he spoke to anyone, about anything. Even if his heart was trying to pound its way through his chest, he could wear it. Because it was the way people liked him most.

Happy, easy Yamaguchi.

“Nothing, nothing!” he said. “I was—”

“Was that Seijoh's captain?”

“Ahh...” Tadashi closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his head as his brain turned itself inside-out for a cover story. “Yeah, that was Oikawa. I was searching for information on Aoba Johsai and one of the links was to an interview—”

“With Gay Japan News?”

“Ahhhhh...”

“In his underwear.”

“I think they were Seijoh shorts.”

Tsukki raised his right eyebrow exactly half an inch.

“Rookie mistake.”

Tadashi was sure his face was the color and temperature of a forest fire. He tried to force a chuckle through his throat, but it got caught half way and he wound up with an awkward cough-giggle.

“He, ah...Oikawa came out. As gay. Is what the article said.”

“Did he.”

It wasn't a question. It was a Tsukki response. The kind of thing he said when he was busy thinking one thing while Tadashi bothered him with something else.

“Ah, yeah. Funny!”

“Not really.”

Tadashi turned the Yamaguchi Grin up to 110%, and gave the tension in the air a chance to drain away. It was stubborn, though. Clinging to him like the sweat from practice.

Tsukki was staring at him.

Tadashi tried to change the subject.

“You're late, Tsukki,” he said. “I almost wore my battery down!”

“I was caught with a phone call.”

“Ah, that explains it! Phone calls. They take time.”

“Some do, yes.”

“It can't be helped!”

“...no. What's wrong with you?”

Tadashi's fingers went numb with fright.

“What do you mean?”

“You're grinning at me like I'm other people. Why?”

“I'm not.”

“Your face is split across the middle. Since when do I get small talk and the Yamaguchi Grin?”

Tadashi laughed.

“This is just my face, Tsukki.”

Tsukki's eyelids drooped so low, Tadashi thought he might be drifting off to sleep. They stood facing each other for a few silent seconds. Finally, Tsukki took a few slow steps forward and they set off toward their homes.

“Whatever,” Tsukki said. “You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. It's fine.”

“Eh? What's fine?”

Tadashi's cheeks were beginning to cramp. The grin worked in both directions. He had to concentrate to keep it up, and that occupied a vast part of his brain. He didn't have to think about what Tsukki was saying as long as he kept grinning. He could even squeeze Oikawa out of his thoughts.

Just keep grinning.

Tsukki looked sidelong at him, then back to the road.

“Don't worry about it. Sorry about your battery.”

“No problem,” he said. “But if I wind up in China, I will write you very angry letters.”

Their footsteps scraped along the pavement.

“You're weird, Tadashi.”


	2. Yamaguchi Sigh

Tadashi stared at the ceiling above his bed.

It _should_ have gone like this:

Tsukki would ask 'Why are you drooling over a naked picture of Aoba Johsai's captain, Tadashi?'. Tadashi would shove the phone in his pocket, launch into the Yamaguchi Grin, try his best to fumble with a cover story. He'd talk and talk, come up with lines about malware, and prank links sent from a friend, and did he mention this isn't even his phone? What's a phone, Tsukki? Where am I? What day is it?

And Tsukki would hold on to his glare until eventually he'd had enough. It was never long until he'd had enough. He'd reach out and lean against the fence, one arm either side of Tadashi's neck, and gaze deep into his eyes.

“Tadashi,” he'd say. “Stop it.”

The Yamaguchi Grin would vanish.

“Tsukki,” the name would squeak out, and his cheeks would flush pink. “I...”

“Shh.”

And he would shh.

And their foreheads would touch.

And he'd be able to feel Tsukki's breath on his lips when he spoke again.

“Tadashi,” Tsukki would whisper. “I've been such a fool.”

And their lips would be unbearably close, and it would be _him—_ Tadashi!—who closed the distance. The kiss would be _everything_ , and it would start raining or something romantic like that, and all the after school clubs would rush over to mark the moment. Chamber orchestra club would score it. Mood lighting club would make sure they both looked their best. Gardening club would dust them with the petals of a hundred cherry blossom trees.

“You want Oikawa instead of me, and it’s all my fault. I ignored my feelings for too long,” Tsukki would say. “Forgive me. Forgive this Great  _F_ _ool_.”

And he'd answer.

“Oh, Tsukki. If it’s a choice between a Great King and a Great Fool, then I am in love with a fool.”

The rest would just be kissing. For hours. Maybe forever.

Back in his room, Tadashi ran a hand through his hair and sagged.

That’s not how it happened, though.

Wasn't how it would _ever_ happen.

Instead, Tsukki kept true to his word and stayed away from the topic of Oikawa and the Gay Japan News. They'd talked about practice, and the original ways Kageyama had managed to annoy Tsukki today, and how they hated the pile of homework waiting for them at home. Tadashi saw him off at the door of his house and walked the final few minutes home, where he plugged in his phone and lay in his bed.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, and it was all Oikawa’s fault. Big mouth Oikawa with his hypnotic abs, and whatever those lines are called beneath his hips that disappear into his shorts. Why’d he have to make it all ‘Hollywood’ and actually come out? If he’d kept it to himself like everyone else did—like he was  _supposed_ to—he’d never have muscled his way into Tadashi’s Twitter feed. With his muscles.

 

Tsukki would have seen nothing, and everything would be fine.

He blinked at the ceiling and pushed out a sigh.

The counterpart to his grin: the Yamaguchi Sigh.

Grinning long enough was guaranteed to bring out the Yamaguchi Sigh. He practised it every time he was disappointed or tired or sad, and by now it was pitch perfect. Even his Karasuno team mates knew about it.

Everyone had their trademark thing. Kageyama had the perfect quick pass. Hinata was the ultimate decoy. Nishinoya had Rolling Thunder. Asahi had his power spike.

He had a grin and a sigh.

Awesome.

He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the dark. His heart in his head was all that stopped things from plunging into total silence. He let it pump out a rhythm for a little while, then forced himself to sit up.

He sniffed at his arm pit, which smelled like a volleyball match. Time to bathe and think about something other than Oikawa Tooru.

All the while he showered, and bathed, and showered again, he didn’t think _once_ about Oikawa’s cheeky come-to-bed smile. Or how he used that smiling mouth to kiss other men on _their_ mouths. And he certainly didn’t think about how that would feel, and whether Oikawa was as good at kissing as he was at sport. Because _obviously_ he was. Men who weren’t good at kissing didn’t come out to the entire country when they were eighteen. That sort of confidence implied exceptional kissing skills.

Back in his room, he still wasn’t thinking about it as he half-assed his homework. Though claiming half-ass might've been a bit much. He’d committed, at most, an eighth of an ass to Japanese and Science. English got slightly more ass, but he was worse overall at the subject. To an impartial observer it was a sixteenth at most.

But it took his mind off Oikawa at least, who got no fraction of ass at all.

His phone only lit up once all night—a message from Sugawara asking everyone to be at practice a little earlier tomorrow morning. He sent back the smiley that Tsukki once said looked like his grin and left it at that.

No grumpy messages from Tsukki. No string of ‘kittens sleeping’ videos from Hinata. It was entirely quiet, like nothing at all had happened since practice ended this afternoon. By the time midnight came around and he was sprawled out in bed, he was almost convinced nothing had.

Tsukki hadn’t seen anything incriminating. Oikawa had chosen to come out on a niche gay site where nobody would ever notice it. It was all a storm in a tiny, tiny teacup. One of those Italian espresso shot cups. Come tomorrow, nothing would change. Oikawa would just be the Great King of Aoba Johsai, and Tadashi would be the guy who grinned and sighed his way through every day.

Nothing would come of it. Nothing ever did.

 

 

***

 

“Oikawa is GAY?” Hinata shouted.

Tadashi could feel his face drain of blood as he watched the club room erupt. Sugawara and Daichi had gathered them around and made the announcement before morning practice. Sugawara passed his tablet around with the article up, and there was a team surge to get a look at it.

“Does he mean ‘happy’?” Tanaka asked. “Maybe he just means happy.”

“Yes, Tanaka,” Nishinoya said. “He did an interview and photo shoot with Gay News Japan to let everyone know he’s feeling happy.”

“Photo shoot?”

“Yeah, look. See?”

“Whaa! How does he get so chiselled?”

“Photoshop,” Kageyama said, voice stern. “Definitely.”

Tadashi took two half-hearted steps toward the frothing group of his team mates and caught sight of the photo again. It looked better on Suga's screen.

“How did you find this, Suga?” Asahi asked.

“I didn’t,” Sugawara said. “Yachi did. She said her friend from Date Tech got a text from her friend at Shiratorizawa High, and she was browsing Twitter when she saw one of her friends from Ougiminami High link to her friend’s Tumblr. _That_ friend goes to Aoba Johsai, and she said it was like there’d been a funeral only the girls at the school were invited to. It didn’t take long for Yachi to find the article. She sent it to Daichi and me last night.”

“With a warning not to open it in front of anyone,” Daichi said. “For which I’m grateful.”

Tadashi was sure he was shaking all over. He could tell Tsukki was looking at him, but he kept his eyes forward and shrugged into his training gear.

“Why are you so excited?” Kageyama said to Hinata.

“It’s cool, don’t you think?” Hinata said. “The Great King, he’s doing something nobody’s done before! That’s brave, right?”

“It doesn’t affect me one way or the other.”

“Well it affects me!” Nishinoya yelled, clamoring atop one of the wooden benches in the corner. Tadashi looked around, heart slamming against his rib cage. “More girls for Yu!”

“Ha ha!” Tanaka yelled. “You’re right! His fans will need a shoulder to cry on. _Oh Tanaka-kun, I am so sad that my Tooru only kisses boys! Comfort me!_ ”

“ _And you, Nishinoya-kun!_ ” Nishinoya added, taking an invisible girl in his arms and cradling her.

The tablet finally made its way back to Suga, and Tadashi was able to turn his back on the room again. He slid his elbow guards over his wrists as slowly as he could.

“It brings a whole new meaning to his favourite saying, doesn’t it?” Tanaka said, and Tadashi watched him from the corner of his eye.

“What do you mean?” Asahi said.

“You know!” Tanaka said, thrusting his hips forward. “If you’re going to hit it—”

“Hit it ‘til it breaks!” Nishinoya joined in, sticking his butt out behind him.

They both collapsed to the floor laughing.

“Oi!” Daichi said. “Okay, enough. We didn’t bring this up so you could laugh yourselves sick. I want to be very clear.”

Tanaka and Nishinoya picked themselves up, and all eyes and ears fell on Daichi.

“This doesn’t change anything. Oikawa has made a personal choice and that’s as far as it goes. None of you will treat him any differently than you already do, or you’ll answer to me. Understood? Tanaka, Nishinoya, I want you to _say_ it.”

“Understood, Captain!” Tanaka said.

“I mean it,” Daichi said. “You can joke, but if I—or Suga, or anyone else—feel it's crossed the line, I will pull you from the team. With my own two hands.”

“It’s fine, Captain!” Nishinoya said. “Really. My little cousin’s gay and we get along great. I’m a very modern and mature man. Everyone says so.”

Sugawara smiled. “Absolutely nobody has ever said that.”

“Senpai!” Nishinoya said, clutching his chest.

“All right, all right,” Daichi said. “Hinata, Kageyama. Say it.”

“I still hate him,” Kageyama said. “But not because of this.”

Daichi nodded. It was the best Kageyama would give.

Hinata looked between the tablet and his Captain.

“Am I allowed to say anything to him?”

“Say anything?” Daichi said. “Like what?”

“Like, you know! 'Good for you' or 'You're awesome' or something like that?”

Kageyama smacked him on the back of the head.

“ _Never_ call him awesome.”

“But—”

Daichi cleared his throat.

“Use your judgement. If you want to be supportive, go ahead. I had just better not hear the hint of a whisper about Karasuno being bullies. Oikawa did this to make things easier for gay kids in sport, not harder. Tsukishima? Yamaguchi? You hear me?”

Tadashi's whole body froze. He was half-on with one of his knee pads, stuck there staring at it like he'd forgotten what it was. His hands didn't work. He flapped them at the black padding like they were balloons tied to sticks.

_Say something_ , he thought. _Quick. QUICK._

Tsukki's quiet voice saved him.

“I care no more or less about Oikawa Tooru now than I did yesterday,” Tsukki said, and cold relief surged through Tadashi. The sound of Tsukki reminded him what hands were, and how knee guards worked, and that he needed to answer his Captain.

There was only one thing for it.

By the time he brought himself upright from his crouch, the Yamaguchi Grin was working its magic.

“Of course, Captain!” he said, eyes half-closed from the force of his smile. “It's not a problem.”

_Please don't ask me anything else. Please don't. Please don't…_

“Okay,” Sugawara said, aloud to the room, not just to Tadashi. “Thanks, everyone. Sorry we had to do that. We're feeling our way through this as we go. If you think we're doing it wrong, tell us. Or Mr. Takeda. We'll just have to do our best to avoid being clueless jock cliches.”

Asahi laughed.

“You have a way with words, Suga,” he said.

A ripple of approval went around the room, and a minute later they filed out for morning practice. Tadashi sat heavily on a chair, his shoes still untied, and stared at them. Tsukki wasn't leaving. Suga, Daichi, Nishinoya, Tanaka…all of them finished dressing and took off, one-by-one, until Tsukki was the only one left.

Tadashi play-acted trouble tying his shoes.

_Please don't ask me anything. Please don't—_

“Are you all right?” Tsukki said.

The grin snapped to life again. He had no choice.

“Sure,” he said. “I'm fine.”

Tsukki stared at him, and Tadashi stared back.

_Please don't ask m—_

“Look, meet me at the rooftop for lunch,” Tsukki said. “I think we should talk privately.”

Tadashi's head was a mess of noise and fuzz, and he almost didn't catch what Tsukki was saying. He watched him walk toward the club room door, then stop and turn back.

“And leave that _stupid_ grin behind.”

Tsukki swept through the door and slammed it closed. Now, with the club room empty, Tadashi had nothing left to do but tie his shoes. Lace up. Get out to practice. Get on with the day.

_Oikawa Tooru,_ he thought. _You selfish bastard._

Daichi said he'd come out publicly to make things easier on gay kids in sport. Well, he missed the mark for Tadashi Yamaguchi. Missed it so bad he'd done the _complete opposite_ , and made things a thousand times harder.

All his breath flooded out of him as he finished tying his shoe.

The perfectly honed Yamaguchi Sigh.

Somehow, he had to find the enthusiasm to play volleyball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next time: A Rooftop Lunch!
> 
> With many thanks to all the kind people who read, commented and otherwise shared the story so far! I really appreciate it :-)


	3. The Old World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Yamaguchi assigns himself the label 'gay' in this chapter because this story was planned out before I got that Yamaguchi/Yachi snippet in season 2. I've left it as is because I feel like swapping it would imply gay stories and bi stories are interchangeable, and I believe they're distinct and deserve their own spaces. Sorry if it upsets anyone! When this one is done I'll happily do a proper story where Yama is bi-er than computer code.

 “Out!” Coach Ukai yelled. “ _Again_ , Yamaguchi. How many's that now?”

Eight. It was exactly eight serves that had jump-floated their way across the court, then across the back line, then into the back wall of the gym.

“Too many, coach!” Tadashi said.

“Nine metres of court to find space in, Yamaguchi. It's not a small target.”

“Yes, coach!”

“Go again. And again, until you get it.”

“Yes!”

Nishionya rolled a ball back from the other side of the court, and Tadashi scooped it up. He could barely feel it between his fingers. His body might have left the club room this morning, but his mind was still there. Frozen under Tsukki's gaze, terrified to ever move again.

Tsukki was watching him. He could tell, even though he never looked over to check. His Tsukki-sense was well honed across years of close friendship. He'd know if Tsukki was looking his way through six feet of reinforced steel.

He wished Tsukki would stop looking.

He turned the ball over in his hands and tried to imagine it was Oikawa's face. That smug handsome face, smirking like he'd done nothing wrong. One eyebrow up, fake innocence coming off it in wave after irritating wave.

He squeezed the ball, tossed it, and _slapped_ that face as hard as he could. It stung his palm, and the sound echoed around the gym like a gunshot. For just a second, he felt amazing. He was filled up with the satisfaction of petty, violent revenge.

Ball-Oikawa slapped into the net.

“Dear, dear,” Coach Ukai said. “At least it wasn't out.”

Tsukki was still watching him.

Yamaguchi sighed.

 

 

***

 

 

All the way through morning classes, he watched the clock and worried. Not the usual way he did when he was _sort_ of worried, and he would let his mind wander all over the place and imagine ridiculous scenarios and play-act his response to them all. This was the proper kind of worry. The kind where he couldn't think about anything at all. The kind where he felt like he was on a countdown timer to doomsday.

Zero hour: lunch time. Ground zero: the roof.

He could sense it. It was the end of the world he'd been living in for the last few years. The world he'd lived in since he met Tsukki. He _liked_ this world. It was easy to be in this world. He'd carved out a system of grins and sighs and keeping to himself, and it worked. He didn't want to leave it behind.

If he could have stopped time altogether and spent the rest of his life alone, wandering between stuck statue-people and never knowing what the rest of time would bring, he would have. He could see Tsukki as much as he wanted, and he wouldn't have to change a thing for the rest of his life. That'd be so comfortable.

But the clock kept ticking as though what Tadashi wanted didn't even matter. Like the universe would carry on no matter how nicely he asked it not to. And why should he expect any different? It was the same selfish universe that created Oikawa and sent him Tadashi's way.

Stupid universe and it's stupid inexorable passage of stupid time.

And now classes were done, and there was no more time to obsess over it. He was at the base of the stairs that would take him to the rooftop, staring at them like this was all their fault. He thought about turning away. Going somewhere else to hide, eat lunch on his own. Maybe even go home. Make something up about a stomach ache. Tsukki would know better—he always knew everything—but that would be tomorrow's problem.

A whole 'nother night in _this_ world.

Anything for just one more night.

He started to turn around.

“Good,” Tsukki's soft voice caught him. “You're here.”

Tadashi froze.

Tsukki swept by, pale and tall like a giraffe in a jacket, taking the stairs two at once. There was no turning back now. Tadashi followed him, bouncing his way up one step at a time, and ducked through the door Tsukki held open.

It was about to rain. Of _course_ it was about to rain.

“Looks threatening, Tsukki,” he said. “Maybe we should—”

“No,” Tsukki said.

Tsukki sat on the concrete roof and took his lunch from his school bag. Tadashi followed his lead, sitting opposite and trying not to vomit. He wondered if he'd even be able to hear what Tsukki said over the sound of his pulse thudding through his ears.

Tsukki took a few bites before he said anything.

“You don't have to tell me anything, okay?” he said. “I don't care. But I've known you a long time and I know something's up. I'm also not an idiot.”

Tadashi sighed.

“I know that.”

“You aren't happy, Tadashi, and I'm...” Tsukki trailed off, and sounded out the next word like he'd never used it before and wanted to make sure he got it right. “ _Worried_ about you.”

Tadashi tried to think of something to say, but nothing would come together. His brain was a mixing bowl of words and feelings getting mashed together, so he closed his eyes and found a sentence that would buy him some time.

“Tsukki,” he said. “Do you mind doing most of the talking for a minute?”

Tsukki nodded.

 _Thank you_ , Tadashi thought.

“And I'm not worried that you might be...whatever. Or not, as the case may be. Just so it's clear. And I don't _need_ to know if you don't want to say, either.”

Tadashi kept his eyes closed.

This was the reason why he didn't have to imagine a bunch of nightmare scenarios and figure out his responses to them. Because he knew the conversation was only going to go one way. The absolute worst possible way.

And Tsukki was following the script down to the letter.

Tadashi knew the next scene by heart.

“So I want you to know that whatever you're feeling, and whatever that has to do with Oikawa's little announcement...it doesn't matter to me. I don't care. You're the same Yamaguchi and I'm the same Tsukishima. Tell me, don't tell me, doesn't matter. Nothing's going to change. I promise you.”

Such a pitch-perfect line reading.

Such a good friend.

Such a bullet straight through Tadashi's chest.

Tsukki went back to his lunch and Tadashi tried to think of a way to answer. It was sweet of Tsukki to say these things. It was really, really uncharacteristically _nice_ of him. It was like hearing a strict father share a romantic moment with his wife, or hearing your school principal tell a joke that's genuinely funny. The unusualness of it was disarming.

Tsukki was trying so hard _not_ to hurt him.

“Gay. For the record,” Tadashi said, forcing a weak smile.

Tsukki returned it.

“Good to know,” he said.

“I don't want the team to know.”

“They won't hear it from me. And they're too dense to figure it out themselves.”

Tadashi snorted.

“No-one else knows, actually. So...just between us.”

“Between us.”

“Thanks.”

Tsukki finished off the last few bites of his lunch as the first little drops of rain fell. Tadashi gathered his knees up between his arms and hunched his back to keep his front dry. Tsukki did the same, leaning forward so their faces were only a few feet apart.

“Can I ask you one thing before we go back to normal?”

Tadashi nodded.

Tsukki was smiling like he thought the worst part was over. Like the hard work was done, Tadashi had opened up a valve and let the tension evaporate into the air.

Tadashi swallowed against a lump in his throat.

“Why were you so scared to tell me? Did you really think everything would change?”

Tadashi tried his best, but could do nothing to stop the corners of his eyes getting damp. He felt them get redder, and his sinuses started to clog up with heat and moisture, and _shit_ . This was a page from the same script Tsukki was reading from. _Yamaguchi begins to cry_ _like a great big stupid gay baby_.

Tsukki saw it and leaned back.

“I wasn't worried everything would change,” Tadashi said.

And he wasn't. That was never the problem.

Tsukki rubbed raindrops from the lenses of his glasses.

“I was worried _nothing_ would,” Tadashi said. “Because that means...”

It was hard to say. A thousand times harder than admitting he was gay, because this was more important. It was what he'd spent years putting off. Closeting himself and keeping himself secret so that he'd never have to admit he was wasting his time.

Nothing was going to change. Tsukki would still be his friend.

 _Just_ his friend.

He sniffed back the blockage in his nose and blinked against the tears.

“It means I've got some reality to face,” he said. “Finally.”

Tsukki was smart. Tadashi didn't have to say the actual words for him to understand what he meant. It would be a shock to Tadashi if he didn't at least suspect this already, anyway.

Tsukki was looking at him like he was a kitten he'd just run over with a truck, and Tadashi cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” he said. He hadn't meant to make Tsukki feel bad. “I, ah...I might go home.”

“Tadashi—”

“Stomach ache,” he said, standing up and slinging his bag across his shoulder.

Tsukki followed him all the way to the door.

“I'll tell the school office you're unwell,” he said. “And the team.”

“Thanks.”

“Tadashi, wait—”

Tsukki caught him by the arm and stopped him from barrelling down the stairs. He couldn't bring himself to look at him, and tried to shrug out of the strong grip. Tsukki's touch wasn't supposed to be hard like this.

“This is one thing you can't help me with, Tsukki,” he said.

The rain was steady enough to flatten their hair now.

Tadashi sniffed again.

“Don't disappear," Tsukki said. "Please.”

Tadashi prised Tsukki's hand from his forearm and lowered it.

“I won't. I just need some time.”

And that was it. That was how easy it was to go from living in one world to a completely different one. A ten minute conversation on a rooftop, some rain, a couple of accidental tears. Then bam. Everything's different. Some massive, ugly security men had come to eject him from the place he was having such a good time in and told him he couldn't stay any more. There were new rules, now. Rules he couldn't follow. Oikawa had ratted on him, and now he was out on his own.

God damn Oikawa.

This was all his fault.


	4. Crushed to Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again SO much to everyone who has commented/kudos-ed/viewed/read/shared. I'm really enjoying writing this story and love hearing from people so don't be shy to say hello :-)
> 
> This chapter was initially a REALLY long one, but it works much better split. The second half is a much different sort of tone to this one, which is all about the fallout from what happened in Ch 3. Hope you like! We get over the gloom very shortly. 
> 
> I did some more art! Poor Yama's dreams are more vivid than real life. http://yamaguchigrin.tumblr.com/image/132789818471

The only poster in Tadashi's bedroom was a huge panorama of the indie rock band Juviana. He’d started listening to them five years ago, back when he first met Tsukki and stalked his 'most played' list. Juviana were six of the top ten, and so he'd become a fan overnight. It wasn’t that he was copying Tsukki exactly. He just wanted to be able to talk to him about music.

Tsukki hadn't listened to them in years.

And now Tadashi was left with this. A great big reminder of how he’d re-organized his entire life to try and get closer to a straight boy.

He wanted to tear it to pieces. Burn it. He wanted to fire it into space—his gift to another species in some far-off galaxy. He could send a note with it.

_Please enjoy this monument to how pathetic I am. – Tadashi._

Whatever spacemen found it would all look at each other and say things like ‘Man, if I’d grown up on Earth I would never have been friends with this kid. Let your taste in music be decided by a crush that’s never going to love you back? What a total moron.’

Yeah. They’d probably have a good laugh at his expense.

Jerk aliens.

The poster hung there, the lead singer staring back at him with her wicked grin.

He really wanted to win this battle. Rip the poster from the wall and fill that blank space with something new. Something that _he_ picked because _he_ liked it and Tsukki didn’t. No! Not even that. It wouldn’t matter if Tsukki _did_ like it. Tsukki would have no effect on the thing that went in that spot.

…which is kind of why he wanted to leave the poster there.

Tsukki went off Juviana ages ago.

Tadashi absolutely—from the bottom of his heart—loved them.

They were far and away his favorite band in the universe.

They were quirky and funny and kind of weird, but they owned it so well. The lead singer had a voice that could turn ice to water, and Tadashi couldn’t count the amount of nights he’d spent soaking in the bath while Juviana played their greatest hits. They had a song for every occasion. Right now, he could pull up at least three or four that fit the theme of ‘my best friend doesn’t like me the way I like him and it’s not his fault but I’m still hurt and might be forever.’ One of them was literally called _Crushed to Death_ , for god’s sake.

Who was it helping to rip the poster down?

If he did, he’d just be handing ownership of the band to Tsukki. It would be giving in to the idea that Tsukki was the one in charge of his likes and dislikes and tastes and preferences. A flicker of heat flashed through his belly and up his spine.

 _No_. No, screw it.

Juviana wasn’t Tsukkis.

Juviana was his.

Juviana could stay right where they were.

 

 ***

 

 There was no practice the next morning, and Tadashi let himself sleep for an extra half hour. When his mother brought him tea laced with honey and lemon and asked how he was feeling, he thought about lying. All it'd take was one pathetic, spluttery cough and some puppy dog eyes. _I still feel awful, my chest hurts_. Which was true in a way.

She'd believe him. She'd make all the arrangements with the school, smooth it over with his father, get him some breakfast to pick at. He'd be able to lie in bed all day, staring at Juviana and ignoring his phone whenever it buzzed.

But no.

There was no point trying to be old-world Yamaguchi any more. Pretending was how he'd gotten himself into this mess to start with, and he'd had enough.

So he told his mother he was feeling better, got himself dressed and packed for school, and walked out the door on time. He let muscle memory take over and plucked his phone from his pocket. Tsukki lived about three minutes walk from here. He usually texted when he left his house so Tsukki could wait out the front of his place.

He very, very carefully drafted the most precisely-worded message so that Tsukki would know he was on the way, and that he was feeling better, and that he was happy that things between them were okay. That he appreciated how open and calm and accepting Tsukki was about the whole thing. That no matter how strange and confusing it was right now, there was nothing that could separate them from the years of friendship they'd built and nurtured so far, and that he'd go to the ends of the earth to protect that friendship.

When he finally had the text typed out, he read it back twice.

 _omw_ _(^_^)v_ , it said.

Sweet.

He hit send, and Tsukkis reply was back in seconds.

 _k_ _((d[-_-]b))_

He smiled.

Everything was going to be okay.

  

***

  

It stayed okay right through the morning with one exception:

Tadashi had no idea what to do with his eyes.

He tried so hard to remember how eye contact used to work with Tsukki, but for some reason it was all a blur. He was so used to stealing glances, and taking a subtle eyeful when he knew Tsukki wasn't watching. How did it work now? It couldn't carry on like it always had. That was old Yamaguchi, and for this to work he needed to start fresh.

It wasn't as simple as treating Tsukki like he would Hinata or Kageyama or Suga or any of the others. He had a separate system of eye contact worked out for them, and it worked because it'd never needed to change.

It had to be a transition so smooth that Tsukki didn't notice. But it had to be significant enough that Tadashi didn't feel like he was looking at his best friend like a crush. This was a complex mathematical equation. A full-blown battle plan was needed. Engineers at JAXA didn't put this much thought into the missions that took astronauts to the moon and back.

So on the walk to school he experimented with very quick eye contact, followed by a middle-distance stare and back to the pavement. That worked well. There was passing scenery to pretend to watch, and things were smooth.

Then came first class, and he tried another strategy. The occasional glance at one another, a light smile or eye-roll depending on what was happening in class, and then back to his books. It was far less successful. He kept accidentally staring at Tsukki until the other boy noticed, and then whipping his head around like he'd been caught peeping. He felt like he was playing knock and run with Tsukki's eyes.

Second class was worse.

He took the opposite approach, never looking up once. _Eyes forward, Tadashi—you've got work to do_. It was English 1, his worst subject by a mile. He couldn't concentrate on another language _and_ this whole incredible eye line debacle at the same time. Keeping his eyes down seemed the best strategy.

And it might have been, if he hadn't been called on to read a passage aloud for the class. At the front of the room, right in front of Tsukki's desk, he began lurching his way through the long-as-hell passage from the class novel. To stick to his strategy, he had to hold the book at just the right angle to block out Tsukki's face. He felt like the world's worst spy, trying to hide his face behind a newspaper. And all he could see the _entire_ time was Tsukki's tangle of bright blond hair poking up above the top of the book.

Eight painful minutes of dreadful English later, he was able to sit down again.

He thought Tsukki might have been looking at him, but he couldn't check.

That wasn't the strategy.

He slumped in his chair and let out an almighty Yamaguchi Sigh.

This was _exhausting_.

 

 ***

 

 He still hadn't cracked the eye contact riddle by lunch time, and by then a bunch of other problems had piled on. He never realized before now, for instance, how close he used to walk at Tsukki's side. Was that too close? Had it _always_ been too close? Tsukki never said anything about it before, but this was exactly the kind of thing he'd put up with rather than make a fuss over.

So he orbited. Sometimes an arm's length, sometimes further, sometimes as close as he used to stand. It must have looked utterly mad to Tsukki. Tadashi flip-flopping between distances and flicking his eyes in every what direction, like he was having the world's slowest stroke.

Conversation was another issue. For a while, things were easy. They ran over the usual topics—school work, TV, internet, the things about Kageyama that Tsukki hated. But every minute that went by seemed to let the great unspoken topic of 'what happened yesterday' get bigger and more awkward.

Why couldn't it all be as easy as this morning, before they'd come to face to face? Why couldn't everyone communicate in initialisms and cute little emoticon faces? They did a great job of getting across what he was feeling, and he didn't have to worry about any of this other crap. Eyes and distance and talking all at once. Juggling all these invisible problems, plus trying to not fail his classes _and_ pay attention to what Tsukki was saying?

Not even Nishinoya could save that many balls at once.

Tsukki did a great job of pretending like everything was fine. That, in its own way, made things even worse, and so Tadashi did the only thing he could to salvage his sanity.

When the buzzer went off to end the last lesson before lunch, he walked straight to Tsukki's desk.

“Hey hey,” he said, just managing to reign in the Yamaguchi Grin. “I have an appointment with the school Careers Office this lunch time. Sorry I forgot to tell you.”

“Oh?” Tsukki's eyebrow arched about an eighth of a millimeter higher, which was an outright expression of shock for him.

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “You know how it is with Careers.”

“Hm,” Tsukki said.

Tadashi kept up his easy smile and waited for Tsukki's next move. This plan was water tight. Nobody ever questioned the Careers Office excuse because nobody really knew what Careers was for. They just called you in and asked you questions and then gave you whatever random pamphlet was sitting on their desk.

“I'll be outside,” Tsukki said, slinging his bag across his shoulder. “In case your meeting finishes. And you want to find me.”

“Will do,” Tadashi said.

Tsukki left the room first.

Tadashi slumped.

Everything _would_ be okay. Eventually.

(-_-;) 


	5. Taiga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet a new character I've been excited to introduce. I hope you like him!
> 
> Fun fact! The Australian song being referenced in this chapter, 'We're Gonna Need Love', is real. And it's lovely, and you can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvLBoyRn_Zw
> 
> Thank you ONCE AGAIN to all those who take the time to kudos and comment and read and share! You're just excellent. I read and answer all comments, so do say hi! :-D

_You've got to be kidding me_ , Tadashi thought.

He was looking at a piano. That's all it was. Just a normal, everyday, not at all special piano. And without warning, without any reason at all, tears exploded from his eyes.

 _Does just_ everything _make me cry, now?_

If it was being played—making any kind of noise _at all—_ it might have made sense to him. But this piano was just sitting there. All on its own in the middle of Music Room 4. An old, dusty upright that he could tell was desperate to be pushed against the wall. Where it belonged. Out here, it looked exposed and awkward and self-conscious. It didn't want to be out there by itself. It was a Yama _ha_ , but put some freckles and one tuft of spiked hair on it, it'd be a Yama _guchi_.

He felt sorry for a musical instrument.

Tears from his eyes. Over an inanimate thing.

This is probably what a breakdown felt like.

He walked over to it and let his fingers fall lightly on the keys. His mother taught piano, and he'd learned the basics from her years ago. She said he played it like he was trying to sound out a foreign language. He'd always liked fumbling along, figuring out what chords went with what other chords and how you could make the notes work together. He had sloppy fingers, though. The sound in his head never quite made it out from his hands.

He tapped out a few chords. The mute pedal was stuck down, and the piano whispered the notes. Like it didn't want to draw any attention to itself.

“Poor thing,” he whispered back to it. “Afraid to sing.”

Now he was talking to it.

Maybe this would be his life, now. His best friend could be a clapped-out piece of musical furniture. They could go on adventures together, as long as they all took place entirely within this room. At the very least he wouldn't get a crush on it.

“I get the feeling you're a girl, anyway,” he said. “A lady piano.”

He played a happy two-step chord progression and laughed.

“Ah, I knew it. A beautiful old lady.”

An angry, crashing minor chord.

“Sorry! Sorry. Of _course_ you're not old.”

Back to a major chord. An arpeggio across E flat, then a slow descent into C minor. A flat. A flat minor. E flat sus 4, to E flat…

He stopped and straightened up.

The opening chords to _Crushed to Death_.

His subconscious was just god damned _determined_ to be sad.

He stepped away from the keys and walked behind it. He didn't often see the back of a piano, and it looked naked. Unpolished wood, and a space where someone had cut a hole to see its innards. He dropped his bag and leaned against it, lowering himself to the floor. Nobody would find him here. Tsukki was outside. The volleyball club didn't have a musical bone between them. He could hide here forever, just him and his best friend the scaredy-cat piano.

He took out his lunch and unlocked his phone. Plenty of battery left for a whole lunchtime's worth of time-wastage. Plenty of distractions on the internet to keep him from over-thinking the Tsukki situation.

Perfect. In an I'm-hiding-from-the-world-behind-a-piano kind of way.

He made sure he wasn't appearing online in any of his social apps—wouldn't do to have Tsukki catch him out that way—and flicked through some of his favorite websites. He steered away from Twitter, though. Twitter was what led him to Oikawa's article two days ago. He wasn't over the betrayal just yet. Twitter was on ice.

A few minutes later he was finished his lunch and was left with both hands free. He thought about loading up a game. He only had a few—his phone wasn't the latest, and couldn't handle anything too demanding. Which was another way of saying he had no good games.

Maybe some comics, or...

He froze.

The atmosphere in the room just changed.

There was a creaking noise, then some light thudding, and…

Someone walked into the room.

He didn't dare move.

_Go away go away go away go away go—_

A dragging sound. More creaking.

They were taking a seat at the piano.

_No no no no no NO NO—_

A long, rolling arpeggio filled the room. He could feel it vibrating through his back, and it was suddenly too late to say anything. Music was flooding out of the piano. Whoever was playing had good hands. Even the muted, soggy sound of the practice pedal couldn't stop the song from soaring. It surged through Tadashi as each note and chord got stronger and grander and more gorgeous.

The player was really getting in to it.

A minute later, the piano was joined by a voice.

Tadashi blushed. He felt like he was spying on someone.

The singer was male, but his voice was fairly light and high. The sort of man's voice that could handle a lot of songs girls were best at. He was singing in English, whoever he was, and so Tadashi could only make out a few words here and there. Something about dancing and lightning, and money, and definitely the word 'love'. That one came up over and over.

There was nothing he could do, so he relaxed into the music a bit.

Maybe this was okay. Maybe they'd play their piece for a while and leave, never knowing there was a creepy first year hiding behind the piano the whole time. He closed his eyes and listened, following the voice as _it_ followed the piano. The mystery singer was good. And his voice was unusual, too. Kind of nasal. It might even have been annoying to listen to in conversation, but in song it worked beautifully. Resonated on the high notes and made the low ones more interesting.

He'd buy this guy's album.

The song built up to its conclusion, and Tadashi had fallen completely in to it. The singer got louder and higher as everything hit the climax—on the word 'love', of course—and started to peter down to a gentle stop. And as the final trundle of rolling chords and melody looped back to the beginning, Tadashi felt a pang in his throat. Returning to the quiet after soaring for so long, the song snuffing itself out exactly the way it had started...his cheeks flushed red.

_No no nonononononono—_

Just as the final note played, he sniffed through his nose.

His hot, wet nose.

It was as loud as if he'd fired a gun in the tiny room.

“Oh crap,” the singer said. “Someone's in here?”

Tadashi thought about saying nothing, but that'd only make things weirder.

“Ah...” he said. “Yeah. Sorry.”

The singer laughed.

“Whoa, like... _right_ behind there?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “I was kind of hiding. And you started playing before I could say anything.”

“That's cool, sorry I interrupted your hiding. Are...you okay?”

Tadashi winced. His voice was thick with all those sounds that came with being sad. He had a blocked-up nose and lips that were too-wet and smacked together. He buried his face in his sleeve to try and clear it away.

“I will be.”

“Are you going to come out?”

Another wince.

He wiped the rest of the tears from the ends of his eyelashes.

“Not just yet.”

“Cool. That's okay, stay there,” the singer said. “Do you mind if I keep playing?”

“ _Please_ keep playing. You're really good.”

“Ha. Thanks. I'm okay.”

His voice wasn't annoying in conversation at all. It didn't have any of that nasal quality his singing voice did. It was actually quite deep, but still young, and reminded him of someone. He couldn't pick who, though. It was a voice that belonged to someone tall and broad across the shoulders. Someone like Asahi from volleyball club, but not as scary-looking.

“What was that song?” Tadashi asked.

“One I heard in Australia. I just got back from a six month stay. It's called _We're Gonna Need Love_.”

“It's really nice. I wish I understood the words.”

“I can try it again in Japanese? It won't sync properly but you'll get the idea.”

“If you like.”

“I _do_ like. Here...”

The song started again, and this time the singer tried to fit the translation to the music as best he could. It wasn't perfect, but it worked just fine. It was a song about falling in love and starting a life together, and the things you need to do that. Love was one. Money was another.

Friends.

When the song finished, Tadashi still had tears in his eyes.

 _I ran away, Tsukki,_ he thought. _I'm sorry._

“How was that?” the singer said.

“Amazing. Again.”

“I fell in love with a lot of the Australian music while I was there.”

“I can see why.”

“Are you coming out yet?”

Tadashi gulped. He was sure he still looked like he'd spent lunch time with his head dunked in boiling water.

“Still no.”

“Well, in that case, any requests?”

Tadashi snorted.

“Do you know _Crushed to Death_ by Juviana?”

The singer laughed and Tadashi laughed along with him. He had a _very_ powerful laugh that filled the room right to the corners and dragged everyone else along with it. It reminded him of someone, too. Like Tanaka's laugh, kind of? Except more...sparkly. The image of him changed in Tadashi's head to a weird mix of Daichi and Sugawara. A smiling giant.

“Okay, if you want that song, I think I'm starting to realize why you're here. Break up?”

“Not quite.”

“But close?”

“Close.”

Another full, infectious bark of laughter.

“Well, in that case, you don't want to be listening to Juviana.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” the singer said. “You need to laugh at something. Here, like this.”

And before Tadashi could say anything, the Piano came to life again. Music rumbled through the floor, and pumped through Tadashi's back and legs.

This was _not_ a soppy song.

The singer started up.

 

_Like a table with one leg slightly shorter than the others/_

_needs a little bit of paper so it doesn't get the shudders/_

_I needed you._

 

Tadashi snorted.

 

_Like someone with an upset stomach threatening to blow/_

_needs a bathroom and some privacy to let it all explode/_

_I needed you_.

 

His shoulders rocked as giggles spilled out of him.

 

_Like potatoes need some salt/_

_like a nut needs a bolt/_

_like a robber needs a vault/_

_like control+delete needs alt/_

_I needed you_.

 

Tadashi could _hear_ the smile on the singer's face and it infected him.

 

_But listen to/_

_the words I said._

_You'll note after 'need'/_

_there is an 'ed'!_

 

The music crashed into the chorus, jaunting its way up and down the length of the keys and filling Tadashi up with sound.

 

_I don't need you any more!/_

_I don't need you any more!_

_You're like a payphone or a paper map,/_

_or movies that you rent in stores._

_I don't need you any more/_

_I don't need you any more!_

_I've got two feet and now I'll use them/_

_I'm done trying to make excuses/_

_I'll go find me someone not a/_

_waste of my time, and they'll be HOTTER!_

 

For the first time in days, he was laughing. This hadn't happened since he'd first seen Oikawa's article. Seijoh's captain had stolen his smile, and now this singer was returning it to him without even trying. Tadashi chuckled and spluttered his way through to the end of the song, each verse funnier than the last one, until it finally stopped. The only sound left were the little puffs of air as he tried to bring his shaking, aching ribs under control.

Dry eyes. Cool face. A smile he couldn't wipe away.

“I think...I'll stand up now,” he said.

“Oh,” the singer said. “The big reveal.”

Tadashi stood slowly, hooking his school bag over his shoulder, and took a few steps around the piano.

He tried not to look surprised by the boy sitting at the keys.

He was only a bit taller than Hinata, and had curled brown hair that looked like it'd never been brushed before. His skin was quite dark, but his features were prominently Japanese. One of his parents must have been from abroad. He was all compact and symmetrical, with big brown eyes and a skinny build like you only see on musicians. He was _nothing_ like the image Tadashi had come up with.

He looked way, way better than that.

“So you're who I've been singing to,” the singer said.

He had a wicked smile. Mischievous.

 _Who the hell does he remind me of_?

“That's me. Thanks.”

The singer shrugged.

“It's what I'd have been doing anyway.”

“Whose song was that? It's hilarious.”

The singer puffed up and stuck a thumb in his chest.

“Mine!” he said. “I wrote it a little while back.”

Tadashi's eyes sprang wide.

“ _You_ did? That's amazing.”

“Oh, you don't have to say it's the best song ever written,” the singer said. “Those are your words, not mine.”

“Seriously, it's funny.”

“Seriously funny?”

“I...yeah, that is kind of a silly way to put it.”

The singer's eyes flicked to Tadashi's Karasuno jacket, and his face lit up into an electric grin.

“Hey, you're on the volleyball team?” he said. “So's my cousin!”

“Your cousin?” Tadashi said. “Who?”

“Nishinoya,” he said. “Yuu.”

Tadashi's jaw dropped.

Of course. Of _course_ that's who this guy reminded him of. The high-but-masculine voice, the laugh that felt like it was going to shake the earth, the grin that said 'I'm thinking things too rude to say out loud'.

“Oh wow,” Tadashi said. “I see it, now.”

“There isn't much resemblance, but people say we're alike.”

He stuck out his hand.

“Nishinoya,” he said. “Taiga.”

Tadashi shook it a few times. “Yamaguchi, Tadashi. Tadashi is fine.”

“Nice to meet you, Tadashi,” he said. “Are you going to be all right?”

Tadashi finally let go of Taiga's hand.

“Ah, yeah,” he said. “I think I'm going to go and apologize to the person I was hiding from.”

“Ooo, good luck. What excuse did you use to get away?”

“Careers office.”

Taiga laughed.

“Nice. No-one questions the Careers Office.”

“Exactly” Tadashi said.

Taiga Nishinoya.

Hadn't Nishinoya said something about having a cousin yesterday?

“Could you do me a favor?” Tadashi said. “If you happen to talk to Nishinoya about meeting me...skip the part about the hiding and the crying?”

Taiga winked.

“I'll tell him we met doing something cool. Like rock climbing. Or paintballing. Or no! Hang-gliding!”

Tadashi grinned. Not a Yamaguchi grin, but an honest-to-god, I'm-having-fun grin.

“Thanks,” he said, and made to leave.

He turned back to say one last thing.

“You really are a good musician, Taiga.”

“And you're a good hider, Tadashi.”

Tadashi blushed.

“See you around.”

“I'm sure.”

And Tadashi put the music room behind him.

Time to be an adult. And a friend.

Time to put things back together.


	6. Oikawa's Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short one this week, guys! It's actually a really busy time of year, but I wanted to get this up now. 
> 
> This is the END OF PART ONE! We are officially finished with the Crush arc! Next chapter begins Part Two: The Exhibition Match.
> 
> THANKS SO MUCH to everyone who's been reading and replying and kudossing and sharing and whatever else! I love you all, and you're making this so fun for me. It's been so long since I've written a week-to-week story, and I've really missed the instant feedback it gets you. You're all wonderful!

Tsukki was propped against a tree with a film magazine in his hands. When he saw Tadashi's shadow fall across the pages, he looked up and pushed the headphones off his ears. Gently, like the way you lower yourself into a hot bath. Or try to touch-but-not-touch a metal door handle when you're about to get a static shock.

“I didn't go to the Careers Office,” Tadashi said.

“No kidding,” Tsukki said.

Tadashi sniffed.

This _couldn't_ be a Yamaguchi conversation. One filled with lots of words that rambled in all sorts of directions and danced around the point until it got tired. For this to work it had to be right up Tsukki's street. Short. Cool. A bit funny. Playful insults.

The sort of conversation they'd been having for five years.

“Tsukki,” he said. “If I say a lot of things, it'll be the third heart to heart talk we've had in three days. Three more than ever before, and three more than we ever wanted to have in the first place. So instead, can you do me a huge favor? Can you look kind of miffed, and say _shut up, Yamaguchi_ , and we can just carry on like always? I swear I've got it now. All I need is for—”

“You're rambling, Yamaguchi,” Tsukki said.

He was looking at him over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were doing that drooping thing that made him look like a really, really bored Saint Bernard.

Tadashi waited.

“How was the Careers Office?” Tsukki asked.

The corner of Tadashi's mouth twitched.

“The...careers? I told you, I didn't—”

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukki said. “How was the Careers Office?”

A smile spread across Tadashi's face as he realized what was happening. Tsuuki was doing one of those things like they do on TV where they blow past an awkward lie by pretending it was true. So cool. _So_ Tsukki.

“It was fine, Tsukki. Boring. You know.”

“Careers is always boring.”

“Yeah.”

“So you know what you should do?”

“What?”

Tsukki pushed his glasses to the top of the bridge of his nose.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

Tadashi grinned and sat down, back pressed against the tree trunk.

Tsukki flicked through his magazine and Tadashi played around on his phone as they commented on this and that. Tadashi was worried about hitting his data limit. Tsukki was worried the new Marvel movie would be as bad as the last one. Tadashi loaded the trailer for the next Batman movie. Tsukki thought it looked okay but there were too many characters for one film to do justice. Tadashi was looking forward to volleyball practice this afternoon. Tsukki wasn't feeling it today.

Back and forth. Easy.

Like nothing had changed.

“Tsukki, remember Nishinoya mentioned he had a cousin?”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Yesterday.”

“It's hard to hear Nishinoya when he's all the way down there.”

“I think I met him. Just now, in the music room.”

“Oh? Another Nishinoya at Karasuno? The place is loud enough as it is.”

“He sang songs for me,” Tadashi said, grinning as he remembered Taiga's cheeky lyrics. “He's really good.”

“Really good, huh,” Tsukki said.

“Yeah. He played this song he wrote himself. It's called _I needed you_ and it starts out—”

And off Tadashi went. Recounting the whole lunch break—minus the crying and the hiding and the angst. There was barely a word Taiga said that he didn't repeat to Tsukki, describing each detail of the music and their conversation. His curly brown hair. His dark skin and mixed background. The way he had Nishinoya's laugh, that filled you all the way up until you _had_ to laugh, too. He even tried to imitate it. It was rubbish.

He ran out of things to say, but kept going anyway. Guessing about what Taiga had been up to in Australia. Wasn't it cool, that he got to live somewhere so different from here for so long? His English must be pretty good to do that. Isn't it amazing, Tsukki? I should ask him for help with my English homework, wouldn't that be funny? What would Nishinoya say? Maybe I should start learning the piano again, Tsukki.

Every sentence made him feel lighter.

He had no problem deciding what to do with his eyes.

He was relaxed and calm and comfortable. More than he'd been in a long time.

Tsukki didn't say much until Tadashi's throat was scratchy and dry from raving.

“So,” he said, the tiniest of smug smiles twitching on his cheek. “You seem pretty happy.”

“Happy?” Tadashi said, patting the back of his head. “Yeah, I...I feel pretty good, actually.”

Tsukki had that look on his face that meant he'd figured something out and was proud of himself. He flicked his eyes back to the magazine in his hands.

“Taiga, huh?”

“Taiga.”

Tsukki nodded.

“Cool.”

Tadashi leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes.

It _was_ cool. This was so, _so_ cool.

The Yamaguchi from yesterday didn't speak this much. That guy was a lot more careful with words. He was always trying so hard to live in an illusion, and one wrong word here or there could shatter it into a million little pieces. There were filters to think about—blocks and parental controls and censorship panels to run his thoughts by before they were allowed out of his mouth.

Just now—for the last five minutes and for the first time in his life—he'd turned all that off.

He was speaking to Tsukki directly.

He wondered if his voice sounded different, not muffled by all those layers.

“Tsukki,” he said. “I think I figured it out.”

“Oh?” Tsukki didn't look up. “Figured what out?”

“Why Oikawa wanted to come out.”

Tsukki's eyebrow twitched up.

“Just now, hm?”

Tadashi nodded.

Even Daichi figured it out. _Oikawa did this to make things easier for gay kids in sport,_ he'd said. The terrified Yamaguchi of yesterday hadn't believed it for a second.

Today, though, with this weight off his shoulders…

“Just now,” he said.

It was just a tiny little bit possible that Oikawa wasn't trying to make things harder on Tadashi Yamaguchi. It was kinda-sorta not beyond the realm of thinkable thought that this wasn't actually Oikawa's fault to begin with. Oikawa might—perhaps, if you squinted and held it up to the light and thought about it really hard—have a point.

What if it could be this easy for everyone? What if nobody needed filters and blocks? What if all this extra weight wasn't necessary, or even real?

What if _he_ could show everyone that?

Tooru Oikawa. Full of himself. Too pretty for his own good. Arrogant to a fault. A real dick to Kageyama. Annoyingly skilled and infuriatingly aloof about it. But maybe—just _maybe—_ not the absolute worst person in Miyagi, Japan, on Earth or in the universe at large.

The buzzer sounded for the end of lunch.

Tadashi sprang up.

“Let's finish this day up,” he said, “and get back to playing volleyball.”

Tsukki picked himself up—a giant blond stick insect trying to stand on its hind legs—and rolled his eyes.

“Hooray.”

 


	7. Part Two: The Exhibition Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Long one this week because last week was short and I might be sorta busy for a few weeks, so the next update may be slightly delayed. MAYBE. Don't know.
> 
> This commences Arc Two: The Exhibition Match! I very much hope you enjoy. The response to part one has been SO LOVELY and I wanted to say thanks again to everyone who's been part of it so far! I truly love hearing from you!

“An exhibition match!” Mr. Takeda announced like it was the grand prize in the national lottery. “With Aoba Johsai.”

Tadashi's eyes went wide and white.

Mr Takeda was holding an email in front of him, with the words _SPECIAL INVITATION_ in all caps across the top. Underneath that was some text, and the Aoba Johsai school crest next to the Miyagi Television Broadcasting logo. The gasps of the entire team were drowned out by Hinata's single, shrill voice.

“A rematch against the grand king!” he yelled like a little red-headed hurricane siren. “I'm not gonna lose this time!”

Nishinoya and Tanaka joined in, chanting to one another.

“Payback! Payback! We will have payback!”

“Oi, oi,” Coach Ukai said. “Don't get ahead of yourselves. We haven't accepted yet.”

“What?” Hinata said. “Why?”

“Because we need unanimous agreement first,” Coach said. “This isn't an ordinary practice match, and you deserve to know the details. I'll tell you all about it once our libero and wing spiker STOP DANCING WITH EACH OTHER.”

Tanaka and Nishinoya stopped mid do-si-do and lined up with the rest of the team.

Coach took the email and glanced at it.

“This email says Aoba Johsai are running a special exhibition match out of the school's display gym. It's to be held in four weeks. It's open to the general public, and there will be a television crew from MMT there to cover it.”

Tanaka, Nishinoya and Hinata gasped.

“It says the game will be broadcast live on Sports 2—”

Tanaka, Nishinoya and Hinata gasped _harder._

“—And that there'll be a wrap-up on the evening news, with interviews and an interest piece.”

Tanaka, Nishinoya and Hinata had no room in their lungs left to gasp.

They yelled instead.

Tadashi flinched away from the wall of noise.

“Cameras!” Hinata said.

“Interviews!” Nishinoya said.

“Revenge is a dish best served _live on TV_ ,” Tanaka said, his face set into an even more delinquent grin than usual.

“Oi, you three,” Daichi said. “Make believe you're in a library and use _that_ voice for a while.”

Nishinoya snapped his palm up into a salute.

“ _Yes, captain_ ,” he whispered.

Suga took a few steps forward, squinting at the paper in Coach's hand. Coach handed it to him, and he studied it the same way he might study a crime scene photograph. Like he didn't trust the email, and he was trying to catch it lying.

“Why an exhibition match?” he asked. “Does it have something to do with Oikawa's interview?”

Tadashi tugged— _actually_ tugged, like on a TV show—at the neckline of his t-shirt. Was there any escape from Oikawa Tooru? Or was he determined to stalk Tadashi to the ends of the earth? No matter how far or fast he ran, always looking over his shoulder for that stupid side-swept hair and grinning face. Forever, until he died. And maybe even that wouldn't be the end. Dogged to the grave, haunted in the afterlife. By the _smuggest_ ghost in the world.

Coach put his hands on his hips.

“Officially, Aoba Johsai is hosting this match to showcase the talent on offer in its third year students,” he said. “It's an opportunity for scouts on the pro circuit to spot potential signings.”

“But we can read between the lines,” Mr Takeda said. “What they want to prove is that Oikawa being...” he trailed off, and his cheeks went rosy pink. Tadashi blushed in sympathy.

“... _homosexual...”_ Mr. Takeda could barely whisper it.

Tadashi's blush deepened to a low-battery red.

“...doesn't mean sponsors and pro teams will avoid him,” Mr Takeda finally finished.

Detective Sugawara stroked his chin, still not convinced.

“Why Karasuno, though? Why not a stronger team with a bigger profile? More supporters?”

“Suga!” Daichi said.

“I'm not putting us down,” Suga said, smiling. “But they'd draw a bigger crowd with someone like Date Tech or Shiratorizawa. Did they refuse? Are we a backup option?”

Coach shook his head.

“No, we were their first choice,” he said. “They mentioned that specifically.”

“Then why don't I feel easy about it?”

Tsukki, quiet until now, cleared his throat.

“Seijoh want someone they're confident they can defeat,” he said. “It's _their_ exhibition match. It'd look bad for the cameras if they lost.”

Kageyama made a noise.

“Oikawa also doesn't like me,” he said, and Tadashi was impressed by the understatement. “He might want to have a victory recorded on film.”

“Huh?” Tanaka said, abandoning his library voice before even trying it out. “We took them to three sets at the inter high! No way they think we're easy-beats.”

Kageyama shook his head.

“Not easy,” he said. “But they've got a feel for us now. A read on me in particular. Oikawa knows what we can do—our strengths and weaknesses, our patterns. Four weeks is plenty of time for him to mould Aoba Johsai into a specialist anti-Karasuno team.”

“Arrrhhhh!” Hinata yelled. “I won't let him win!”

Daichi folded his arms.

“Have you _ever_ been to a library?”

Tadashi let the sound of playful bickering drop away as he felt something odd start to take hold in his belly. It spread outwards—jumping to his wrists first, then down into his hands. He was clenching his fists together. Tensing his legs and arms. His neck was so tight he could feel the hair on his temples jitter as his head shook.

He remembered standing at the service line at the Inter-high tournament. Watching as his jump floater serve smacked into the net, flopped to the ground and dribbled away. He remembered Oikawa's face right after. Satisfied. Arrogant.

He doubted the Great King remembered him at all.

Coach's voice brought him back.

“The fact is: you're all right,” Coach said. “That's why we're asking you as a group. This is a tricky thing. There's layers to it, so you have to think about all of them. The invitation is not offered out of respect. The motivation behind the match is political.”

“But it's still a match,” Hinata said. “It's still time on the court.”

Kageyama nodded.

“Against a strong opponent,” he said.

Nishinoya and Tanaka grinned at one another.

“A chance for payback,” Tanaka said.

“Sweet vengeance,” Nishinoya said.

Around the circle it went. Daichi and Suga and Asahi all agreed—they wanted a chance to kick Aoba Johsai in the teeth just as much as the second years.

“That leaves you two,” Coach said, nodding in Tadashi's direction.

Tsukki was looking at him, too, one eyebrow _very_ gently raised. It was a question. The sort of question you can ask without words if you've known each other a long time and have recently gone through a bunch of drama over this exact thing.

_Do you want me to shut this down?_

Tadashi smiled at Tsukki, then turned to Coach Ukai.

He would _make_ Oikawa remember him.

“Let me serve,” he said. “I think we should play, but please let me serve. I'll work hard. I'll make sure I'm ready. I _won't_ let everyone down.”

Coach grinned at him.

“That's the spirit, Yamaguchi. Tsukishima?”

Tsukki turned his gaze to Coach.

“I am so excited,” he said, voice flatter than a squashed crepe. “I can barely contain myself.”

Tadashi smirked at Tsukki.

“Then it's settled,” Coach said. “In four weeks time, we play Aoba Johsai. They'll be ready for us. They think they've set a trap for us to fall in to. Are they right?”

The entire team answered as one, _no!,_ like they'd been rehearsing it for days.

Except Hinata, who yelled 'No wayyyyyyy!”

Coach looked like he'd just been served a five-star meal.

“All right, then. Finish up. Come back tomorrow ready to take down Aoba Johsai on their home ground.”

 _Yes!_ They yelled.

And everyone set about packing away the gym. It was first years' turn to mop the floors. The four of them formed a line and covered as much ground as they could with a single stroke.

“Wahhh,” Hinata said, still buzzing. “I was _born_ to play in an exhibition match!”

“Oh?” Tsukki said. “Would you call yourself an exhibitionist, then?”

“An exhibitionist!” Hinata said. “Exactly.”

Tadashi had to hide his face behind his hand so Hinata didn't see him giggling. The mop wobbled off course as he tried to push it with only one arm.

“You should mention that if they interview you at the game,” Tsukki said. “So they know you're the biggest exhibitionist in Miyagi. Maybe even Japan.”

“ _Definitely_ Japan.”

“Make sure they know.”

“Thanks, Tsukishima!”

“Here to help.”

Hinata and Kageyama charged off to clear their sections of floor, and Tadashi grinned.

“You're evil, Tsukki.”

Tsukki shrugged.

“We keep begging him to study.”

 

***

 

The club room's ceiling fan was broken.

It was one of those horrible, humid nights that made sweat stick to you no matter how many towels you threw at it. Tadashi eventually gave up trying to dry every drop from his back and shrugged into his uniform. It clung to the wet spots on his spine and shoulders and he winced. It was like being draped in soggy seaweed.

Asahi was whimpering in the corner of the room.

“I'm just saying: if the goal of the match really _is_ to prove that coming out is no big deal, but we _beat_ Oikawa and lower his chances of getting a sponsorship...aren't we kind of the bad guys? Just a little bit?”

Nishinoya's voice wafted from underneath a towel and a tangle of hair.

“They should have thought of that before they threw down the gauntlet!” he said, head poking through the centre of the towel with a wicked grin.

Daichi was just yanking on his school shirt when he joined in.

“Think of it like this, Asahi: is it not respectful to play to our full ability against _any_ opponent?”

“Of course it is!”

“Right,” Daichi said, folding his arms. “And do you respect Oikawa any less since he came out?”

Asahi looked like he might faint.

“No!”

Daichi smiled. A pleasant smile. A dad smile.

“Then we better play our best against him, hadn't we?”

“I...yes, we had!”

Suga, already lacing his shoes, grinned up at the ace.

“Asahi, if someone told me you'd been mugged by a litter of kittens, I'd totally believe them.”

“Don't say things like that, Suga!”

Tadashi chuckled as he slipped his feet inside damp socks. He had to shift aside to let Nishinoya through to his locker, and caught sight of him from the side.

He and Taiga definitely looked alike.

“Hey, Noya,” Tadashi said.

The libero's head snapped around while he fumbled with turning his shirt right-side in.

“Yamaguchi?”

“I met your cousin today. Taiga. You didn't mention he goes to Karasuno.”

Nishinoya's face lit up.

“Ha ha! Little Taiga,” he said, and Yamaguchi launched into his grin. Taiga was at least ten centimetres taller than Nishinoya was, but this wasn't the time for _that_ conversation. “He's been abroad for a long time. My aunt and uncle travel a lot, so he only just started here. Where'd you meet him?”

_Don't say hang gliding don't say hang gliding don't say hang gl—_

“I actually heard him singing as I passed one of the music rooms,” Tadashi said. “He's really good.”

“Isn't he?” Nishinoya said. “My talented little cousin.”

Tanaka laughed.

“The last time I saw Taiga, _you_ were the little cousin, Noya.”

“I'm older! That makes him my little cousin.”

Hinata burst into the conversation.

“I didn't even know you had a cousin, Noya.”

“I told you that _just_ yesterday, Shouyou.”

“When yesterday?”

“Right here in club room when we were talking about Oikawa? I said I had a little cousin.”

“Seriously?? Where was I?”

“ _Literally_ standing right there.”

“No way.”

“Yes you were, dumbass,” Kageyama said.

They went off on one of their noisy tangents again, but Tadashi couldn't hear them. He was too busy thinking back to yesterday, and Nishinoya's exact words.

He'd mentioned his cousin, for sure, but that's not all.

There was one part he left out this time.

A part that made Tadashi's heart do a little jump-float skip inside his chest.

 _My little cousin's gay_.

His smile stretched from one wall of the club room to the other.

 

***

 

His school clothes were already soaked through with sweat, so he went straight to Shimada Mart to practice his serve. The sun had gone down hours ago—it must have been nine o'clock by now—and his arm was beginning to feel dead.

“Don't you have a home to go to?” Shimada said, smiling.

Tadashi threw the ball up, stepped, skipped, jumped, and _slapped_ it.

It skittered through the air, bobbling along like it wasn't sure which way to turn, and skimmed the tape on top of the home-made net. The contact made it drop sharply, and it landed a metre away from the centre of the court.

It went in, but he hadn't been aiming for the net.

He _tsk_ ed his tongue, and turned to Shimada.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Am I running too late?”

“Not for me,” Shimada said. “I just thought your parents might be worried.”

Tadashi snorted.

“I told them I was going to be out. If I hadn't, there'd already be a bulletin on the news about me.”

Shimada kept his smile steady.

“You're motivated today.”

“I have to be. We have an exhibition match coming up.”

“So Keishin told me. Against Aoba Johsai.”

Tadashi walked over to the ball and scooped it up. His hands were red-raw. He hadn't spent this long practising before—non-stop since 4pm—and he could feel it all over. His legs were stiff and sore. His arms were tingling. The soles of his feet felt like they'd lost a layer of skin or two.

He pressed the ball tightly between his palms.

Aoba Johsai. That one chance in the Inter-high to make a difference, to swing the match in Karasuno's favor…

That sound as the ball scraped along the front of the net.

That numb, aching feeling that gutted him for _days_.

“I can't let it happen again,” he said. “I have a point to prove.”

“Yes,” Shimada said. “You do.”

Tadashi wound up, threw the ball, and served again.

The way it flicked up and down, left and right...it's was like dancing.

This time it cleared the net, and landed flush on the far left sideline.

Right where Oikawa would be standing in four weeks time.

“I'm going to make him see me,” Tadashi said.

“Oikawa?”

Tadashi nodded.

It was only fair, after how much time he'd spent seeing Oikawa _everywhere_. Having his entire life taken over by the choices of some far-off fop at a private school with more hair than brain cells.

This was Oikawa's punishment.

He would face Tadashi. The Pinch Server.

And he'd feel what it was like to have a Yamaguchi-sized thorn in _his_ side for once.

Shimada left him to practice alone, and he called it a day shortly after that. He slipped the ball underneath the upturned milk crate behind the dumpster, grabbed his bag, and started walking home.

His phone said it was quarter past nine and that he had two messages. One was from his mother, telling him dinner was waiting in the fridge in case he got home after she went to bed. The other was from Tsukki.

The message preview was just a string of numbers.

He squinted at it, called up the entire message—

And nearly fainted.

 

_022-4560-6578_

_I told Nishinoya it's my brother's birthday soon and I might need a musician to play at the party. He seemed to know someone who could help and gave me this phone number. Thought I'd pass it along in case you need a musician sometime. —T_


	8. The Most Excruciating Day Of All Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapters are slightly delayed! It is the CRAZIEST time of year. But thanks once more to EVERYONE who reads, comments, kudoses and generally enjoys the story! For you, I shall keep writing!
> 
> Now, are you ready for the most excruciating day of all time?

_Hey Taiga. Yamaguchi from the music room. I play volleyball with your cousin. I just wanted to say thanks again for yesterday. You really cheered me up on a bad day. Keep singing, dude! - Yamaguchi._

 

Tsukki finished reading, put down the phone, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Clung on to it like it was _spraying_ blood. He looked like he'd just read a ten page essay called 'Why I Think Tsukki Is Stupid and Ugly by Tadashi Yamaguchi'.

“What?” Tadashi said.

“Tell me you didn't send this.”

“Of course not! I was too terrified to do anything but draft it. Just endlessly draft it all night. That's number sixteen.”

“Then I don't even want to think about the other fifteen.”

Tadashi's eyes were twitching. It was early—the sun was only just rising over the mountain, and they'd each taken a seat outside the gym before practice was due to start. Tsukki was nursing a take away coffee.

Tadashi was too nervous to drink anything.

“It's not that bad, is it?”

Tsukki's eyebrow curled.

“ _Keep singing, dude_?”

Tadashi bunched his fists.

“So? He's good at singing.”

“Maybe. But the word 'dude' doesn't exactly roll off your tongue, Tadashi. Would you also say he is _totally rad,_ or maybe _gnarly_?”

“Tsukki—”

“Can we work the word _cowabunga_ in there somewhere?”

“Tsukki!”

Tadashi was used to taking the odd barb from Tsukki, but this was particularly mean. He was soft when it came to Taiga, and Tsukki was poking him hard.

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukki said, his voice sharp. “You understand what I went through to get this number, don't you? I had to be _nice_ to _Nishinoya_. I had to pretend like I was throwing a party. I will be lucky if I don't have to actually do that just to cover the lie.”

Something weird was happening.

The same feeling that bubbled up yesterday at training when he thought about Oikawa. That weird heat spreading from the pit of his belly, outwards and outwards until he was sure steam was rolling off his skin.

“It's not like I asked you to,” he said, eyebrows pinched together. “It was a thoughtful thing to do and I'm grateful, but it kept me up all night stressing out!”

“You're stressing because you're over thinking it,” Tsukki said. “You need to feel your way through. No drafts. No explanations and excuses. Just say what you really want to say.”

Tadashi shook his head.

“ _That_ 's the thing. I don't know what that is.”

“Well, you should. Put some emotion into it.”

“That's not how _you_ do it.”

“No, but it's how you will. Come on.”

Tadashi clenched his teeth. He didn't know if he was furious or anxious or terrified or some combination of _all_ feelings. His fists hurt like he was angry. His face burned like he was embarrassed. His stomach churned like he was nervous. He felt like he'd knocked over the rack of glass beakers that held his emotions, and they were all mixing together in him.

_Feel your way through it_.

“Dear Taiga—”

“ _Lame_ ,” Tsukki said.

“Ugh!” Tadashi said. “Taiga, it's Yamaguchi from the—”

“Lame—he knows where you're from.”

Tadashi felt the artery in his temple twitch.

“Okay, then fine. I'll go full slimeball pick-up artist, shall I? I'll say 'Taiga: thanks for making me feel better yesterday. Here's my number in case I can return the favour one day. Say, after school, with ice cream or Karaage. Kiss kiss, luv u lots, Yamaguchi.' I'll send him _that_.”

Tsukki threw both of his hands up, shoulder height.

“Yeah. Say that. It's perfect.”

Tadashi was still running hot.

“Okay, fine, I'll...what”?

“What you just said. Without the kissy ending,” Tsukki said. He picked the phone up off the top of Tadashi's bag and tapped away at it. A few seconds later he turned it around. “See for yourself.”

Tadashi took the phone and stared at it.

 

_Taiga,_

_Thanks for cheering me up yesterday. Here's my number in case I can return the favour one day. Say, after school? With ice cream or Karaage? - Tadashi_

 

All the steam inside him was gone.

He lowered the phone.

“Did I really say that just now?”

Tsukki snorted.

“You've always been better at talking when you're mad.”

Tadashi read it back again and again. On the fifth reading, he found he still didn't want to change any of the words. He looked to Tsukki, looked back to his phone—

And hit send.

Tsukki heard the little _schloop_ noise and his eyes went wide.

“You sent it?”

Tadashi nodded. Firmly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why wait?”

“I'm happy for you,” Tsukki said, and he nodded over Tadashi's shoulder. The sun had fully cleared the top of the mountain now and was casting long shadows in warm orange light. “But just for _next_ time, probably best to wait until after 7am before you send it.”

Tadashi looked at his phone.

Then at the sun.

Then back at his phone.

6:47am.

“ _Crap_ ,” he said.

 

***

 

The most. Excruciating day. Of all time.

Volleyball practice zipped by in a blur of 50/50 jump-floater serves. They jogged and practised receives and performed drills and sweated in the morning heat. Everyone talked a lot about the exhibition match—except Hinata who screamed a lot about the exhibition match—and then it was over.

8:40am.

No messages.

Morning classes droned on and on about Japanese and English and a whole bunch of stuff that might as well have been Greek. He managed to keep his head down as the class answered homework questions. He moved his pen in little strokes that _felt_ like words and numbers, but he couldn't be sure. His thoughts were too far away.

The buzzer went. 11am.

No messages.

Middle classes. Maths. Cold, cold calculation and equations.

Lunch followed. He sat with Tsukki, holed up in their classroom, and didn't say a word.

1:30pm.

No messages.

Afternoon classes.

Afternoon practice.

The walk home.

Dinner.

7pm. Twelve full hours since he sent the text.

No messages.

He tossed the phone on his bed and collapsed next to it.

He wanted to blame it all on the early message, and how weird that must have seemed. That'd be easiest. Taiga was woken up by a message from a guy he didn't even know, and he'd glared at it and buried himself back in his blankets and tried to fall back asleep. But it was that awkward thirteen minutes before his alarm was due to go off anyway, and the pressure of wanting to fall asleep meant he _couldn't_ fall asleep…

But no. That wasn't it.

It was way worse.

Taiga just didn't like him.

Taiga _hated him to actual death_.

An unfamiliar and totally unfair feeling of annoyance bubbled up inside Tadashi's gut.

_Damn it, Taiga_ . H e could have just said so. He didn't need to go singing songs, and pretending to be all charming, and doing that cute thing with his face. Or maybe it was just a baseline cute face. Either way, it was a low blow. He could have just _said_ 'Oh my god, never speak to me, you are the literal scum of the Earth'. At the very least, he could send back a fake-sincere text.

 

_Sorry I don't have time to answer you because I'm hanging around some extraordinarily beautiful and talented people. Call you if I need someone who's great at crying behind pianos, tho. LOL._

 

He wouldn't mind that so much. It'd be completely crushing, obviously, but better than not knowing. Better than Taiga seeing his text and laughing— _cackling—_ into the sky like an anime villain before deleting it. Or even worse, just kind of...ignoring it.

He ran his hand through his hair. Then his other hand.

Maybe it wasn't too late to go to boarding school in China.

Or maybe he could join the circus. He'd never tried the high wire before but, on the bright side, if he fell he'd be too dead to worry about all this. Being shot from a cannon might be quicker, actually. Or lion taming. Not as quick, but way more—

A noise at his ear made him leap from the bed.

It sounded like a thousand jackhammers manned by a thousand angry wasps were trying to burrow their way through his bed. A pale blue light lit the room, flashing in time with the deafening buzz. He saw his phone shaking on the spot, wedged between the rumpled edge of a blanket and his pillow.

The sound kept up.

This was no text. This was a phone call.

And the name 'TAIGA' filled the screen.

Tadashi backed away from the phone like it was a hand grenade about to go off.

Taiga was _calling_ . What was he calling for?? Didn't he know anything about stereotypes? Teens don't call each other! They go to _great lengths_ to communicate in text only. This was some kind of human rights or digital rights violation or something.

It was up to the third ring.

He took a few steps forward.

Anxiety was screaming at him. _It's okay to let it ring out!_

Fourth ring.

He imagined Tsukki's stern voice.

_I had to be_ nice _to_ Nishinoya _, Yamaguchi. Answer that phone._

He grabbed it, swiped, and answered.

“Hello?” he said. Like he didn't know exactly who it was.

“Tadashi? It's Taiga. You texted me.”

“Oh, hi,” he said, not exactly sure what the point of that pantomime was. “Yeah, I did. Ahh...sorry it was so early! I was waiting for club practice to start and I didn't think—”

“No, that's okay!” Taiga said. His voice was exactly how Tadashi remembered it. “Sorry it took me so long to answer. I'm not much of a morning person, and I think I might have read it while I was half asleep. I just re-found it when I got home.”

The Yamaguchi Grin was plastered onto his face.

“Yeah that's fine, I wasn't worried,” he said.

He'd only pulled out three entire handfuls of hair and chewed every one of his fingernails back to tiny bloody nubs. The hives would probably fade away by the time he was forty years old. And once he'd drunk about eight litres of water, he'd have replaced all the fluid he lost to nervous sweat.

Not worried at all.

“So...I got your number from your cousin, and...I just wanted to say thanks for...um...”

The words weren't coming like they should.

He was trying too hard to dance around it all.

The only way he was going to get through it was to _feel_ his way through it.

“You know what?” he said. “I'm going to feel like a creep if I don't tell you the whole story. Have you got a minute?”

“I do,” Taiga said. “And I love stories.”

“Good. Okay. So, you know I play volleyball, right?”

And Tadashi told him everything.

He went right back to starting school at Karasuno. To joining the volleyball club with Tsukki, and becoming rivals with Aoba Johsai. About an especially annoying setter/captain named Oikawa Tooru, and how he knocked Karasuno out of the inter-high.

About Oikawa coming out. About Tsukki catching him with the article in hand, and everything that happened after that. He tripped a bit on the word 'gay' when he was talking about the rooftop lunch—he still wasn't used to saying it out loud, let alone to someone he didn't know. In a lot of ways, though, it was _because_ he didn't know Taiga very well that he could talk so freely.

And for his part, Taiga listened. He laughed when he was supposed to. Clicked his tongue when he needed to. Asked little questions to show he was keeping up.

He was a good listener.

“And then I guess I wouldn't shut up about how much of a help you were in the music room,” Tadashi said. “Because Tsukki told Noya a fake story about needing a musician for his brother's birthday, and then passed your number along to me so I could say thanks.

“Then I sent you a weirdly early text message, and that brings us to now.”

He felt out of breath. Light headed, like he'd spent way more time talking than breathing. But it felt right.

“Well,” Taiga said. “You've had a big week, Tadashi.”

“I...” Tadashi couldn't explain why, but he felt a tear gather in the corner of his eye. “I have. It's been a big, long, busy week.”

“And am I the first one you've told this to?”

“Apart from Tsukki.”

“Well, that's flattering.”

Tadashi laughed.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “This must be so weird. You meet me once, I steal your number, then dump my life story on you. I promise I'm not usually this...I don't know. Dramatic?”

“I'm in the drama club, Tadashi,” Taiga said. “I eat this stuff up. The same way I eat up ice cream, or Karaage.”

Tadashi blushed.

“Oh, ha. Yeah. Um...I was sort of wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat after school one day. Just to say thanks for cheering me up.”

“How about tomorrow?”

Tadashi chewed his lip.

His heart was thumping so loud, Taiga could probably hear it.

“Sounds good to me,” he said. “I have club until six-thirty, but after that—”

“Jeez, they work you hard at volleyball club.”

“Ha. Yeah. Actually that's a good point, I might smell a bit.”

Taiga laughed.

“Yamaguchi with the _strong sell_ ,” he said.

The skin on Tadashi's face raised the ambient temperature of the room by a whole degree.

“I mean, I'll get changed,” he said. “Obviously!”

“Tadashi, it's fine, I'm kidding. It's summer in Miyagi and we're teenage boys. We sweat. We smell. I'll jog a few laps of the school grounds before I meet you to even things out.”

Tadashi bounced on the bed as a giggle shook his chest.

“I'd appreciate that.”

“So,” Tagia said. “Text you tomorrow? Meet you in town?”

“Sure. I promise to it'll be after 7am this time.”

“And I promise to answer before 7pm. Twelve whole hours – think we'll make it?”

That warmth again. It didn't start in his gut this time, though. This time is was behind his ribs. It spread across his chest and up through his neck, across his face and right down to his fingers and toes.

“We'll just have to do our best,” he said. “Text you then.”

“Look forward to it,” Taiga said. “See you tomorrow, Tadashi.”

And then the phone was quiet.

And Tadashi's room was quiet.

He didn't move for ages. Minutes. Longer, maybe. He just lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

It _was_ the most excruciating day of all time.

But it was so totally worth it.


	9. Understatements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again! With a very special thank you to EVERYONE as we blow past 800 hits and 100 kudoses and so, SO many lovely comments. You're all my favourites! As a reward, I made this chapter extra cute.
> 
> The only author note for this one is that an F-2 is Japan's current flagship fighter jet. According to Wikipedia anyway.
> 
> I hope you all had a merry Christmas if you celebrate it!

Tadashi shrugged out of his sweaty practice gear and into his mostly-fresh school shirt. Before he buttoned it, he began emptying a can of antiperspirant into his armpits. A powdery, smelly cloud started gathering around his head and shoulders.

After a second or two, Tsukki snatched the can away.

“That’s enough.”

Tadashi gulped.

“I’m nervous, Tsukki.”

‘Nervous’ wasn’t really a good enough word to describe his heart trying to battering-ram its way through his rib cage and on to the club room floor. It was the only word he could think of, though, so an understatement would have to do.

“You’re meant to be,” Tsukki said. He threw his backpack over his shoulder and turned to leave. “It’ll be fine. Just…no more body spray.”

Tadashi took the can back.

Barely any left, anyway.

“Thanks,” he said. “For—”

“See you tomorrow. Fill me in.”

Tadashi finished buttoning up, checked he had enough money to cover two lots of after-school snacks, and followed Tsukki out the door.

 

***

 

Taiga looked fantastic.

‘Fantastic’ wasn’t really a good enough word to describe the way he’d dressed himself like a kind of half-skater, half-surfer, alt-geek street musician. Or how he’d swept his hair across his forehead so, even though it was still curled, it looked like everything about him sloped left. Nor was it a good enough word to describe the way his smile still seemed to lance through the air like a bolt of white lightning.

It was the only word he could think of, though, so an understatement would have to do.

He grinned at the other boy and waited for him to cross the street. They’d arranged to meet outside of a small Karaage stand near the train station, about halfway between their houses and close by to the park. The perfect kind of place to get lost in an early evening crowd.

“Hi,” Taiga said. _Aggghhhh_ , the smile. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

“I only just got here! Club went over time as usual.”

“Then we synced up perfectly,” Taiga said. He leaned forward and took a big, exaggerated sniff of the air. “Hey, you promised me you’d stink like a dozen athletes. What the hell, man? All I smell is Karaage.”

Tadashi laughed.

“Sorry to let you down. I love your clothes, by the way.”

Taiga held out his hands and did a quick twirl. Tadashi could never have worn clothes like these. A sleeveless black shirt two sizes too big with _The_ _Empire Strikes Back_ poster printed on the front. Dark jeans, rolled up so his ankles and calves were bare, and a length of polished-chrome chain running through the belt loops. Sandals, and about six different kinds of arm band around his wrist.

Fantastic.

“And here I am in my school uniform,” he said. “I really made an effort, huh?”

“I happen to like our school uniform,” Taiga said. “Besides, I came here to see you, and eat Karaage and ice cream. Not write up a critique of your fashion choices.”

“Good, because my fashion choices are rubbish.”

“Can’t be that bad.”

“I own at least one shirt that says _tacos_ in big letters.”

“I…oof,” Taiga said. “Okay, maybe stick with the uniform for now.”

And just as easy as that, it was underway. Tadashi relaxed in to the flow of conversation. They ordered some Karaage, which Tadashi awkwardly insisted on paying for, and took it to a set of public picnic tables in the park. They tittered away about all kinds of things—about music, about movies, about school and the news and books. By the time they were done with their chicken, they’d covered an extraordinary amount of ground.

Taiga set down his empty skewer.

“So I never asked, are you cool with me calling you ‘Tadashi’? I mean I’ve been doing it this whole time, but do you have a nickname or something you prefer?”

Tadashi thought about it.

“No, everyone just calls me ‘Yamaguchi’. Tsukki calls me Tadashi when he’s in a good mood.”

“Well, do you _want_ a nickname? Something with a suffix? I can’t believe nobody calls you Yama-kun or –san or –chan or whatever.”

Tadashi snorted.

“My mother used to call me Guchi-chan.”

Taiga’s laugh wrapped him up, and he laughed along.

“That is _so_ sweet,” Taiga said. “Guchi-chan.”

“Oh, god. You’re not going to start calling me that, are you?”

Taiga leaned forward. “Don’t worry. I promise only to do it when I want to see you blush like this.”

Tadashi tried to swat the redness from his cheeks.

The sun was getting lower as they carried on. Tadashi thanked Taiga again for helping him out in the music room, promised it meant more than Taiga could imagine. Taiga insisted it was fine, over and over, and everything took on a more serious tone.

“So nobody on your team knows you’re…you know,” Taiga said.

Tadashi shook his head gently.

“Just Tsukki,” he said. Then his eyebrows peaked up. “Though, this one time I slipped up and told one of the second years I think bald guys can be hot.”

Taiga barked his laugh.

“How did that even come up?”

“I don’t remember,” Tadashi said. “He wasn’t wearing his shirt and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“No, not straight at all,” Taiga said.

They were off on the gay tangent now, and Tadashi still felt weird speaking so openly about it. There was nobody nearby who could hear them, so he wasn’t worried about that. It was just all so new. Like he’d been given a new set of words to use that were banned until now.

Taiga told him all about how it was different for him. How he’d basically grown up overseas where this kind of thing wasn’t a big deal, and he’d never had to hide it. His parents were fine. All the school friends he’d made in the United Kingdom and Australia didn’t think twice about it. When he came home to Japan, he just went about his business and nobody ever paid any attention.

“I don’t know, though,” he said. “I think it's mostly because people see me as a bit of an outsider. I’m a Japanese citizen, but mom’s from Sri Lanka and my skin’s almost as dark as hers. People sort of think of me as foreign even though I was born in a hospital about eight miles from here.”

Tadashi looked past Taiga’s features and clothes and saw his deep brown skin. He’d always tanned easily to a pretty bronze tone, but Taiga’s was richly colored and smooth.

“I don’t understand how people can think like that,” Tadashi said. “About your skin, or about being gay. It’s all so much drama about nothing.”

Taiga shrugged.

“It’s how things are, I suppose.”

“I hate how things are sometimes.”

Taiga’s head drooped sideways.

“From what you tell me about your friend the 'First Gay Athlete'–trademark—, someone’s trying to change it.”

Tadashi laughed.

“Oikawa isn’t my friend. But…you’re right. I think he’s trying to make a difference.”

Taiga yanked his smartphone from his pocket.

“What’s his name again? Orc…oink…”

“Oikawa Tooru,” Tadashi said.

Taiga tapped at his screen for a few seconds, then his eyebrows arched up.

“Holy crap, is that him?”

He turned the phone around. There was the article in Gay Japan News, and that ridiculously well-lit and well-shot photo of Oikawa wearing just shorts and a volleyball.

“Yep, that’s him all right.”

“ _He's_ your arch nemesis?”

“That's…one way to put it.”

Taiga whistled, long and low.

“I gotta say, I'd find it hard to get mad at him about _anything_.”

“He is annoyingly good looking.”

“Yeah, I mean...if you're going to have an arch nemesis, you want him to look like that. How do you even get those abs?”

“Kageyama says Photoshop.”

“And you’re playing a match against this guy in a month? How are you going to concentrate with that on the other side of the net?”

“Trust me,” Tadashi said. “His attitude more than balances out his good looks. He is a gigantic pain in the ass. And he serves like a cannon, so he’s kind of scary.”

“Good looking, good at volleyball, champion of gay rights. It must be a hell of an attitude to balance all that out.”

“Come to a match, you’ll see,” he said.

Taiga spun his phone back around and read through the article for a minute.

“You _are_ right, though,” Tadashi said. “I didn’t exactly handle it well, but what Oikawa did really helped me. And if it can help other people, well...I feel like I want to thank him. Encourage him, or something. But I have no idea how.”

“You can’t do it at the exhibition match?”

He shivered.

“No way. I couldn’t say it face to face.”

“Hm,” Taiga said. “How about a note?”

“Maybe…” Tadashi said. “Risky, though. Someone might catch me writing it, or intercept me carrying it. Lots can go wrong, and I'm not ready for that just now.”

“Well, here,” Taiga said, spinning the phone around. “There’s a comments section on the article. It’s got…holy crap, two thousand and thirty eight comments already. You’re not likely to give yourself away in among all that.”

Tadashi eyed the screen.

“You think he’d read it?”

“I mean, I’m just going by looks here, but to _me_ he seems like the kind of guy who googles himself every night. I’d say there’s a chance he’ll read it.”

“Hm,” Tadashi said. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Tadashi, it’s _my_ idea,” Taiga said. “Of course it’s good.”

The sun was just beginning to set.

By the time it was fully dark, they’d written out a comment Tadashi was happy with. They picked a vague-ish pseudonym—one that meant enough to Tadashi that he’d be able to point it out to Oikawa, if he was ever brave enough.

Tadashi mumbled it out loud as he typed it in.

“Pinch…Server…uh…”

“GC,” Taiga suggested.

“GC?”

Taiga grinned at him.

“Guchi-chan.”

 

***

 

Taiga was funny.

‘Funny’ wasn’t really a good enough word to describe the way he’d made Tadashi’s ribs and jaw ache from laughing over the last hour or so. About the way he’d taken all of Tadashi’s problems, put them in perspective, shown him the funny side and made things feel better. It was the only word he could think of, though, so an understatement would have to do.

“This is where you practice?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said, tossing his empty ice cream cup into the dumpster and retrieving the volleyball from behind it. “Shimada has been coaching me all year on the side to help me improve.”

After ice cream, Taiga had _insisted_ on seeing what a Pinch Server does. _Come on, Tadashi. You’ve heard me sing. Only fair I get to see what you can do._

It _was_ only fair. But his jump-float serve was nowhere near as polished as Tagia’s voice or musicianship.

He took the ball to the service line and squeezed it between his palms. He felt almost as nervous serving in front of Taiga as he did serving to Aoba Johsai in the inter-high.

“The idea is,” he said, talking himself through it, “to hit the ball so there’s no spin. It makes it sort of wobble through the air, and move in unpredictable ways. It’s hard to get.”

Taiga hoist himself up on top of a pile of disused pallets.

He looked good even when he perched on garbage.

“So that’s the float part,” he said. “But my cunning brain suspects there's jumping involved, too?”

Tadashi nodded.

“The jump gives it more power. Makes it move more quickly. It makes it doubly hard to figure out where it’s going. So, you toss it, and…”

He tossed the ball, lined himself up, and jumped.

His hand hit the ball cleanly, and it wobbled away from him. Dead still. Not a hint of spin.

It slapped into the net.

“Ah, damn it,” he said, going red. “Sorry.”

“That _was_ going over,” Taiga said. “It only dipped at the last second.”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “It’s unpredictable. It’s what makes it so dangerous to both teams. But I’m getting better.”

He tried again. Tossed the ball, jumped for it, made contact…

This time, it sailed over the net and landed beautifully. It skittered away into the wall of Shimada Mart, and came to a stop.

“Whoa,” Taiga said. “I honestly couldn’t see where that was going until it hit the ground.”

Tadashi grinned.

 _Thank god I made one so early_.

“That’s the idea, anyway.”

“You’re going to run rings around Oikawa with that serve,” Taiga said. “He’s got a cannon, but you’ve got sidewinder missiles.”

Tadashi laughed.

“Sidewinder missiles?”

“That’s right,” Taiga said. “People are going to be calling you the F-2. They’ll chant it from the stands. Just you wait.”

Taiga lurched off the edge of the pallets and went to retrieve the ball.

“We don’t usually have people chanting for us,” Tadashi said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, we…we’re sort of a dark horse. Other schools have huge cheer squads, but Karasuno hasn’t had a successful team for years. Everyone’s forgotten about us.”

“Well,” Taiga said. “You’re going to make them remember.”

Tadashi took the ball.

“I hope so.”

Taiga grinned.

“Here,” he said, holding the ball up between them. “Teach me to serve.”

 

***

 

Back at the karaage stand at the train station, Tadashi and Taiga said goodbye.

“I’ve had a great night,” Taiga said. “I’d sort of forgotten what it’s like to hang out with someone who can talk about cute guys and all that stuff. Apart from girls, I mean.”

“I’ve never had it before,” Tadashi said. “And it’s amazing.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. We have to do it again.”

“We do. And I mean, I’ve got your number.”

Taiga laughed, and leaned forward.

He grabbed Tadashi by the shoulder and pulled him in, then wrapped his other arm around his waist. Tadashi was too overwhelmed to realize what was happening at first, but then his heart pounded out a jackhammer’s rhythm. He could feel Taiga’s heart pressed against his, beating back.

It was a proper, genuine, tight, warm hug. The kind that went on for longer than just a quick chest bump, like the super-manly ones at volleyball club. The kind that had no roughness to it at all. It was tender and soft, and the most intimate thing he’d ever experienced in his entire life. He could feel Taiga’s bones and muscles. His own hands wrapped around his shoulders, and his fingers rested against the bumpy vertebrae at the back of his neck.

A few seconds later it was over.

Tadashi had to force himself not to rush forward and wrap him up again. Even in the warm Miyagi summer, he felt freezing now that Taiga wasn’t nestled against him.

“Bye, Tadashi,” Taiga said. “See you soon?”

“Definitely,” Tadashi said.

He liked Taiga.

‘Liked’ wasn’t really a good enough word to describe the way he made Tadashi’s entire body feel like it was wrapped in a big warm blanket. Or the way his head and heart felt like they were made of warm syrup whenever Taiga was nearby. Or the way the sound of his voice was enough to bring him out in goosebumps.

He didn’t want to ruin things by using a stronger word, though, so an understatement would have to do.


	10. We Brought Some Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! First of all: Sorry if anyone got a false update. When I uploaded the chapter last there was a big problem I needed to fix, and I yanked it down within minutes. Hope I didn't cause too much trouble!
> 
> There's going to be two quick updates in a row, because this was originally ONE BIG LONG chapter that has a logical split right in the middle. It makes more sense to split it, and it means two updates in the time it would usually take for one! Wahoo! 
> 
> Thanks again to each and every single person who views/kudoses/comments. We rocketed past a thousand hits after the last update! And as of today, the story officially creeps past 20,000 words. We're approaching the one-third mark!

It wasn't Tadashi shaking, it was the bus.

That's what he kept telling himself.

Four weeks flashed by like one of Oikawa’s bullet serves. Everyone trained hard over that time, but it was obvious nobody felt ready for the exhibition match. It’d been looming all this time, some far-off thing that’d take ages to arrive.

And now, after a blur of practice and exercise and sweat, it had.

“Everyone’s feeling it,” he said.

“Hm,” Tsukki said.

Tsukki wasn’t listening to his headphones, which was as good as admitting he was terrified. Kageyama—normally fast asleep by now—spoke in a low voice to Hinata, who nodded along. The smaller crow gave only single-word answers, worried that leaving his mouth open any longer was asking for a sickly mess. That, at least, was normal. 

Tanaka, Ennoshita and Narita stared straight ahead, silent. Daichi and Suga were each reading over some kind of document, comparing notes as they went. Asahi looked as sick as Hinata did. The only one who seemed to be in good spirits was Nishinoya, who was bent over at the front of the bus talking to Yachi and Mr Takeda.

He turned his phone over and over in his hands, stopping every so often to unlock it and stare at the screen. The web browser was up, Oikawa's article already loaded. The comment left by PINCH-SERVER-GC was center-screen, and he read it through again and again. 

Tsukki leaned over.

“You’re going to work yourself into a pile of stress if you keep obsessing over it,” he said.

Tadashi bit his lip.

“I know,” he said. “I just can’t make up my mind.”

“You don’t know if you’ll even get a chance to talk to Oikawa,” Tsukki said. “And if you do, make the call then. Do what feels right.”

Tadashi swallowed against a burning bit of bile that was creeping up his throat. Tsukki always said things like that. Like they were so easy. Like it was no big deal to come out by stealth to someone who’d never even met you before.

Taiga said he was worrying too much, and Taiga was usually right. There wasn't a lot could go wrong if he spoke to Seijoh's captain. Oikawa would look him over, shake his hand, and say 'thank you, that means a lot, especially coming from an opponent'. Tadashi would nod back and the two would never speak again, but at least Oikawa would know he'd made a difference.

_Maybe_ Oikawa does his thing where gets a little excited, and flashes that big, hollywood smile. He might want to have a chat about things and wonder whether Tadashi was  _personally_ helped out. Tadashi might be able to handle that. Stammer out a guarded little 'yes, it helped me'. If that's all it was, then fine.

But...Oikawa was a showman. He might want to whip out his phone and take a photo together. Caption it 'Oikawa the Hero saves local gay from life of utter self-repression!'. Smile, Yamaguchi! Upload it to Facebook and LINE and Twitter and every other social media site in the world.

There would be news crews, too! So he'd definitely call them over and ask to be interviewed. Come and see how I, Oikawa, have changed the life of the very gay Tadashi Yamaguchi, gay pinch server for Karasuno high school, who is a total gay. Wave to your unawares mom and dad, Yamaguchi! Are you seeing this, bullies of Karasuno? He wears number twelve! He has freckles! Here's a map of his route to and from school—but don't beat him up just because he's a complete and comprehensive homosexual, okay??

Capped off with little peace sign fingers.

Tadashi Yamaguchi. Overnight sensation and Japan's most famous gay.

If his grip got any tighter, the phone would snap in half.

“Taiga says it might make me feel better,” he said.

“Do you think he’s right?”

“I think I’m too nervous to think straight.”

“I agree,” Tsukki said.

Tadashi hit the home button and watched the web browser disappear. He tapped the messages app and brought up the text he’d received that morning from Taiga.

 

_Good luck today! Make him remember you._

 

Tsukki was still looking over his shoulder.

“Are you two official yet?”

Tadashi blushed.

“No,” he said. “We see each other a ton, but I don’t know. We talk and talk, and things always end with a hug and a ‘see you next time’. I think I’m doing something wrong.”

Tsukki made a noise in the back of his throat.

“What?” Tadashi said. “Has he said something to you?”

“Taiga’s out, right?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said.

“And he knows you aren’t.”

“Right.”

“When you talk, do you spend _quite_ a bit of time talking about how nervous you are about coming out? Or how stressed you are at the idea of people finding out?”

Tadashi thought about it for a minute.

“A little bit,” he said.

Tsukki nodded.

“Then you’re going to have to make the first move.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because Taiga’s nice,” Tsukki said. “And I think he’s waiting for you to be ready. He doesn't want to pressure you, so he's letting you set the pace.”

“Seriously? You think so?”

Tsukki shrugged.

“Even if that isn't it, you _want_ to make it official, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“In that case, making the first move can't hurt.”

Tadashi stared down at his messages and flicked back through them. There were pages full, and his eyes only caught snippets of them.  _Lets try somewhere different today, much as I love fried chicken—Can I come to serve practice today? I promise to behave—Stage band is working on something pretty exciting! Can't say any more though. Very hush hush—I'M BUYING NEXT TIME GUCHI-CHANNNN, or I will only call you Guchi-chan for all time._

He smiled at them.

“You're really good at this stuff, Tsukki.”

Tsukki hooked his headphones over his ears.

“I read many, many books.”

 

****

 

Tadashi stepped off the bus and into the circus.

His jaw fell open—something he thought was just a TV thing until right now—as he tried to figure out if this was a volleyball match or the grand opening of an Aoba Johsai theme park.

There must have been five hundred students milling around the gymnasium. Music was being piped in through the school's PA system, and voices were shouting across one another in all directions. There were three food trucks parked along the edge of the parking lot, which was almost full. Members of the public were filing in through the school gates, all holding fliers about the exhibition match being held today. Across the way, parked up close to the gym doors, were no fewer than  three TV vans. Two seemed to be from MMT Sports 2, and the other was from the local news.

Tadashi knew Aoba Johsai was a rich kid school, but he didn't know they were  _three food trucks_ rich. He glanced up, half expecting to see skydivers falling in formation that spelled GO SEIJOH!

The last time he'd seen spectacle like this was that time he and Tsukki went to the New Year festival. All he remembered about it was leaving before midnight because he hated the crowds.

Hinata was frozen—a tiny statue at the front of the team.

Kageyama whacked him on the back.

“Don't get overwhelmed, dumbass.”

He might as well have been telling a wave not to break.

“This,” Suga said, “is noisier than I expected.”

“Hm,” Daichi said. “We need to prepare for a hostile crowd.”

“Hostile crowd?” Hinata said, limbs creaking back into motion. 

Tsukki  _tsk_ 'd at him.

“It means support will be overwhelmingly in Seijoh's favor.”

“Ha ha!” Nishinoya said, pointing a finger. “Not so fast, naysayers.”

Everyone turned to look at him, then followed the line of his finger to the road. Outside, two large coaches were just pulling up to Aoba Johsai's main car park.

“We've been busy!” Nishinoya announced. “Tell them, Shimizu!”

Shimizu stepped forward, cleared her throat, and pushed her voice as loud as it could go. Everyone strained to hear.

“We were contacted by the school administration shortly after we agreed to this match. They didn't think it would be appropriate for Karasuno to appear on live television without some supporters. Mr Takeda, Yachi and I all agreed.”

The buses pulled in to the parking lot and came to a stop beside the Kasauno team bus. It looked tiny by comparison.

Yachi stood by Shimizu, warm smile on her face.

“The school gave us an allowance to hire two coaches, and told us to fill them with the loudest supporters we could find,” she said. “Luckily, Noya said he had some ideas about that.”

“Damn right I did,” he said, thumb pressed against his chest. “ _Nobody_ makes noise like a Nishinoya!”

Tadashi's heart felt like it stopped working as the doors opened.

First through them, bursting from the bus like he was surfacing from beneath an ocean of water, was Taiga. Behind him, almost a hundred Karasuno students carrying cardboard cones and signs and even musical instruments filed out.

Taiga smiled at Tadashi and his heart pounded back into action. He grinned back and waved. He wanted more than anything to run over and start asking  _every single question_ . To clap him on the back and hug him and say thank you for the support.

The eyes of his team mates kept him rooted to the spot, though.

“Take heart, Karasuno!” Noya said, hands on his hips. He looked a thousand feet tall right then. A commander high on horseback, informing his troops reinforcements had arrived. “We brought some noise of our own.”

The throng of Karasuno students approached the team and lined up opposite them. Taiga, out in front, led them in a bow as they formally offered their support to the team.

Daichi and Suga, smiles wider than the faces they were set on, welcomed them to the match with open arms.

Taiga projected his voice so the whole team could hear.

“The music and drama clubs took the liberty of writing some chants about you guys! We hope you like them,” he said. He turned to the big group and held up his hands. “Okay, Karasuno! Team Chant 1!”

From somewhere at the back of the group, drums fired up. A pounding, rapid-fire rhythm that made the air rumble. The clubs clapped hands in between beats, and the whole thing came together a jaunty, driving beat.

Then the trumpets.

Then the voices.

 

_Crows on the court!_

_FLY FLY FLY!_

_Crows in the air!_

_FLY FLY HIGH!_

_Crows everywhere!_

_GO GO GO!_

_K-A-R-A-S_

_U-N-O_

_Kar-As-U-No!_

 

It was loud.

It was catchy.

And it filled Tadashi all the way up, from the bottom of his feet to the tips of every strand of hair, with excitement. A tear tried to force its way from his eye, and he felt silly. One look at the rest of the team, though, and he knew he wasn't the only one.

Nobody had ever chanted for them before.

Let alone  _written_ one just for them.

At the head of the pack, Daichi bowed low.

“Thank you!” he said. “We're honored to have you here!”

The team bowed as one, and shouted 'thank you!', and there wasn't one of them who didn't mean it. Even Tsukki bent all the way.

When they came back upright, they were a different team. The sense of gloom that rode with them on the bus was completely gone, replaced by a tingling excitement that vibrated between them. The festival atmosphere suddenly felt enticing, not intimidating.

They were Karasuno, and they were here to beat Aoba Johsai!

“We'll be cheering the whole match,” Taiga said. “We've got a few surprises for you, yet!”

Tadashi wanted to edge closer and talk to him, but the two groups were split up by an important-looking man wearing a lanyard. He watched Taiga as he led the cheer squad away, and let himself be ushered toward the gym by Mr Takeda. He pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped off a quick text message to the other boy.

 

_Was this your idea?_

 

In the distance, he saw Taiga read the message, crane his neck, and grin.

A few seconds later, the phone vibrated.

 

_Maybe_ （＾ｖ＾）  _Good luck, F-2._


	11. Lights, Camera...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Haikyuu episode today?? No problem! Have a new chapter of OUT! instead. Few things today:
> 
> Like I said last time, this was originally sewn in to the previous chapter, but I split it because it was just getting soooo long. 
> 
> And awww yiss, I finally sat down with the tablet and drew Taiga. He looks MORE OR LESS like I imagine him. He still seems too tall for some reason, haha. I tried to give him the Nishinoya eyes and face shape. Please enjoy his loose fitting tank tops and lop-sided curls. Can you see why Yamaguchi likes him?
> 
> http://yamaguchigrin.tumblr.com/post/136454310276/heres-taiga-from-out-object-of-yamaguchis

The out-of-breath little man never introduced himself, so Tadashi just thought of him as Lanyard Man. He led the team this and way and that through the crowd, and eventually brought them to the changing rooms. Yachi, Shimizu, Coach Ukai and Mr Takeda excused themselves while everyone else picked a spot on the long, wooden benches.

“Please get changed quickly,” Lanyard Man said. “The crew is waiting.”

Everyone stripped off and slipped into their jerseys, and Lanyard Man didn't so much as turn his back. He checked his watch every twenty seconds or so while his wrist was on the way to wipe sweat from his forehead.

“He seems stressed out,” Tadashi said to Tsukki.

“I can see every vein in his forehead.”

Minutes later, everyone was ready to go.

“This way,” Lanyard Man said.

Barely time to breathe.

He led them through a different door to the one they'd come from, and they were suddenly inside a big, open-plan classroom that had been emptied of all its furniture. It was replaced by cables, camera stands, huge silver lighting fixtures, and a ton of people bustling around shouting to one another.

A sign on plain white paper—clearly printed at the last minute—was stuck to the far door.

_MEDIA MARSHALLING AREA._

Lanyard Man disappeared.

Blue Tie Man replaced him.

He didn't introduce himself, either, but was wearing a shirt with the MMT Broadcasting logo on it.

“Karasuno,” he said. “We don't have a lot of time. We need the captain and one other over here for a quick interview.”

Daichi took a breath to speak, but Blue Tie Man powered on.

“And which ones are Kageyagga and Hanana?” He said.

Tadashi's eyes flicked to the two first years.

Kageyama cleared his throat.

“I'm Kage _yama_ ,” he said, and pointed to the redhead in front of him. “That's _Hinata_.”

“Uhuh, yeah. We need you, too. And what about...you? Glasses?”

Tsukki recoiled.  _Properly_ recoiled. Took a step back to keep his balance and everything. 

“No, thank you,” he said.

Blue Tie Man looked confused.

“No?”

“I politely decline.”

“Allow me!” Nishinoya said, stepping forward.

Blue Tie Man shook his head.

“We already have a short one.” 

Nishinoya froze on the spot, and gave Blue Tie Man a look he usually reserved for people who hit on Shimizu.

“How about you?” Blue Tie Man said, nodding to the bunched-up third years. “The scary-looking one with the beard?”

Asahi pointed to himself, eyebrows up.

“Yeah, you,” Blue Tie Man said.

Asahi looked like he was having trouble breathing.

“I...I...I don't...”

Blue Tie Man held out his hand.

“You know what, don't worry. We're already behind. Captain, pick someone. Let's go.”

He clapped his hands at Daichi.

Like an owner impatient with his dog.

Tadashi was nervous all over again. When they'd said 'news crew' all those weeks ago, he'd imagined lines of cameras and lots of important-looking people in suits. Someone sitting in a folding chair shouting 'action!' and two or three meek interns to guide the talent around. Maybe a table full of snacks and water and tea.

This was nothing like that.

It was a whirlwind of sweating, annoyed, pushy people. The lights were too bright, the room was too hot…

Wasn't being on television supposed to be fun?

“This is...really tense,” he said. 

Tsukki  _hmm_ 'd next to him.

Daichi tapped Suga and brought him over to the cameras. A pair of young-ish looking men rushed over with brushes and dusted them with some kind of face make up. A woman in black held up a tiny white sphere and gave the thumbs up to a camera man. The reporter studied her notebook, eyes so close to the page it was a wonder she could even see it.

Daichi and Suga looked like two little mice surrounded by cranky, cranky lions.

Kageyama and Hinata got much the same treatment—with the added bonus that Hinata was given a Miyagi prefecture phone book to stand on so they could both be in the shot. The two separate news teams got their interviews out of the way quickly and efficiently. Tadashi tried to listen in, but it all happened so fast he couldn't catch more than a few words here and there.

Blue Tie Man was back.

“Karasuno, this way,” he said.

He manoeuvred them all into a line against the wall.

“Loosen it up a bit,” he told them.

Tadashi stepped forward a little. Tsukki leaned against the wall.

“Now,” Blue Tie Man said. He clapped again. Tadashi hated that sound. “Aoba Johsai are about to enter. We're filming, so when they come through the door we want a spontaneous greeting from the whole team. Then the captains will come together and shake hands. Understood?”

Daichi nodded.

“Sure,” he said.

“Good,” Blue Tie Man said. He walked to the other side of the room and knocked on a set of double-doors. “Okay! When you're ready.”

_Oh crap,_ Tadashi thought.  _Is this really it_ ?

A whole month leading up to this moment, and now it was rushing at him like a runaway truck. He did his best to run through everything that led him here—just to make sure his head was in the right place. All he had time for was flashes.

Oikawa coming out. Lunch with Tsukki in the rain. A poster of Juviana. Taiga. The exhibition match…

It was a knot of feelings and memories, with no time to unpick them.

Both doors flung open and his heart rattled around in his chest. Through the centre of them, one hand on each door, strode the Grand King himself.

Oikawa Tooru.

He looked exactly like Tadashi remembered. Tall and striking, hair swept across his forehead and spiking here and there in just the right way. Handsome face. Perfect shape. Mint-green shorts that seemed to ride just a  _bit_ too high up on his thighs, which seemed to go on forever. Tadashi imagined him sitting at home with a pair of scissors and a sewing kit, taking an inch off the legs of his shorts and sewing the hem back so nobody would know.

He took a ragged breath.

Finally. Face to face with Oikawa.

Not that Seijoh's captain noticed him at all. Nor did the rest of the team, flowing in behind Oikawa in V-formation. Tadashi remembered most of them from the inter-high. Iwaizumi looked serious as ever, just behind Oikawa and to the left. Watari, their libero, was at the very back.

“Karasuno!” Daichi said, and the team oriented on him.

They bowed as one.

“Thank you for the invitation!” Daichi said.

“Thank you!” the team followed him.

Oikawa approached Daichi, long steps bringing him closer and closer.

Tadashi gulped. This was all happening so fast.

Oikawa held his hand out.

“Thank you for accepting it!” he said.

An incredibly warm grin was spread across his face.

The captains shook hands while the cameras rolled. Some reporters from the local newspapers took photos, and the room was filled with flashes and clicks.

Tadashi tried not to blink against it.

“We're eager for the chance to play such a strong team,” Daichi said, returning his best smile, too. 

Daichi had a nice smile. He was a good-looking guy, and warm and caring. He had a way of making you feel like he was listening, and that he was there for you, and that things wouldn't go wrong as long as he was around. The easy smile was as much a part of that as the rest of his personality.

But now, opposite Oikawa, he was eclipsed. 

Charisma oozed off Aoba Johsai's captain in a way that made Tadashi kind of jealous. Everyone at Karasuno knew what kind of an ass he could be during a match. They knew the stories of how he treated Kageyama back at Kitagawa Daiichi junior high. But right now? In the glow of the smile, the voice and the smooth talk? Nobody remembered any of that.

All they could see was a handsome, outgoing and kind leader.

“You're too kind,” Oikawa said, rubbing the back of his head. “When the idea for an exhibition match came up, there was no other team we'd settle for than Karasuno. I look forward to the challenge.”

“Then we'll bring you our best challenge,” Daichi said.

Oikawa grinned, and turned to face Kageyama.

“And I look forward to facing you again, Tobio-chan,” he said.

Kageyama looked like he was caught in headlights.

“And...you,” he stuttered out.

Oikawa chuckled and turned to the cameras.

“Now, interviews?” he said, and was immediately beset by a crowd of news-makers.

And that was it.

Blue Tie Man was gone, and Lanyard Man was back.

“This way,” he huffed. “To the court.”

Tadashi's heart was just beginning to settle down.

Could that really be it?

_That_ was the moment he'd been waiting for all month? A ten second glimpse of Oikawa, then pushed out the door by an impatient little bald man with a lanyard?

He didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed.

Something deep inside screamed at him that it should have been  _more_ than this.

Karasuno was ushered through the double doors Aoba Johsai just came through. They exchanged brief nods with their opponents as they were led away and marched through a long, portrait-lined corridor.

Up ahead, Coach Ukai was waiting by another set of double doors. The sound of a huge crowd was leaking through them.

Lanyard Man pointed at them.

“Through there,” he said. “The match starts in ten minutes. Please warm up quickly.”

And he left.

Coach grinned at them.

“How was your brush with the media?” he said.

The entire team stood silent.

Tadashi felt like he'd left his brain back on the bus.

“That was...weird,” Tanaka said.

“Oh my god, _so_ weird,” Suga said.

“Like...in one door, out the other,” Ennoshita said.

Tadashi nodded.

“No time to think,” he said.

Nishinoya's arms were crossed.

“I'll show that blue tie wearing ass who's short,” he said. “Is there some kind of limit to short people who can appear on TV? What the hell was that about??”

Coach's eyebrows shot up, and he looked to Daichi.

“We got through it,” Daichi said. “And nobody embarrassed themselves.”

Coach put his hands on his hips.

“Well,” he said. “That's show business for you. The important thing is you're here now. Brace yourselves. We have to warm up. We have to defeat Seijoh. Show them what you came here for!”

Tadashi sucked down a breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and let the pre-match tingles fill him up.

So his face-to-face meeting with Oikawa turned out to be a bust. The day wasn't over yet, and they still had the match to play. It was out there—on the court, with the ball in his hands and Taiga in the stands—that he'd make his impression on the Grand King of Aoba Johsai. When he opened his eyes, they stayed tightly narrowed. Determined.

This was  _his_ day.

Daichi turned to address the team.

“Soak in the crowd,” he said. “Listen for your supporters. Play your best!”

“Yes!” Everyone called back.

Coach grinned.

He pushed the doors open, and light and sound gushed into the corridor. Tadashi could  _feel_ the crowd coming up through his feet. The smell of floor wax and volleyballs snaked up his nose and into his head, making him giddy.

“Do yourselves proud,” Coach said.

And they walked into the light.


	12. Action!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OUT! HAS A COVER! http://yamaguchigrin.tumblr.com/post/136669267086/aaaand-the-cover-has-color-now-i-can-attach-this
> 
> And now the match begins! Settle in, guys, this is by far the longest chapter of the entire story so far.
> 
> Once again, a HUGE thanks to all the awesome readers I've gotten to know so far! This is all for you :D

Tadashi could barely hear Suga over the noise.

“Extra loud!” he shouted. “Asahi needs to hear us!”

Tadashi's voice couldn't compete with the fever-pitch of the crowd, so he just nodded. Music and drums, cheers and shouts, the rumbling murmur of people trying to talk over one another. And on top of all that, the stretched-out, flashy voice of an announcer who might've been auditioning for a game show.

“Show them your support!” he wailed over the PA system. “Karasunoooooo! Aoooooooba Johsai!”

There was a long pause as the announcer let the crowd noise build up. It felt like the air was shaking. The noise was driving straight through Tadashi's ears and tickling his brain.

He had to squint against it.

“Let the game begiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnn!”

The announcer hung on to the word like it was his last hand-hold on a thousand-foot cliff.

The crowd noise hit an impossible peak, and the referee blew the game-on whistle. Asahi bounced the ball on the spot, all his concentration on the serve. On the other side of the court, Aoba Johsai waited. At the back, Oikawa. Half-crouched and straining to stay still, like his legs were made out of coiled springs.

“Asahi!” Suga yelled.

Tadashi took a deep breath and braced his lungs to yell  _hit a nice serve_ as loud as he could.

“Hit a-!”

 

_FIRST BALL OF THE DAY! IT'S GOING TO ASTOUND!_

 

Tadashi—and Suga, and Ennoshita, and half the gym—whipped around to see where the noise was coming from.

Almost directly behind the player substitution area, taking up an entire bay of seating in their black school uniforms, was the Karasuno cheer squad. And in the very front row, leading them like the conductor of an orchestra, was Taiga.

 

_WOULDN'T IT BE FUNNY IF THEY LET IT HIT THE GROUND?_

 

Tadashi laughed. So did Suga, and the rest of the reserve players. He could hear Tanaka's belly-cackle from way out on the court, and Coach Ukai's grin was about to split his face in half. 

Taiga, until now facing his squad, clapped his hands and spun around. He pointed at Asahi, and the cheer changed from a loud chant to a low, building mass of voices.

 

_Goooooooooooo—_

 

Tadashi followed the line of Taiga's arm, and refocused on Asahi. He had the ball pressed between his palms, and was lowered into his serving stance. A tiny smile pulled on the edge of his lips. He tossed the ball.

 

— _oooooOOOOOOO—_

 

He jumped and slammed his palm into the ball.

 

— _OOO ASAHI!_

 

The ball sailed across the net, and the game was under way.

Iwaizumi received it—just—and the arm wrestle began.

Suga was still grinning.

“We've been made to look like amateur cheerleaders,” he said.

Tadashi laughed, and snuck a quick glance over his shoulder.

Taiga was front and center, pressed up against the railing of the first tier of seats. Tadashi caught his eye, and Taiga winked at him. The sudden heat in his cheeks was from the rush of the crowd and match-day nerves.

Yeah. That was all.

“Damn!” Suga said, and Tadashi turned back to the match.

The ball bounced out of bounds off of Daichi's arms.

Point Aoba Johsai.

“Don't mind, Captain!” Tadashi yelled.

And the points started flowing. One-for-one, tit-for-tat.

In the very next play, Asahi slammed a straight spike right by Watari, their libero.

 

_OHHHH! THAT'S NO GOOD! THAT'S NO FUN!_

_YOU GOT SPIKED BY ASAHI-SAN!_

 

Tadashi was astounded. Had Taiga written cheers for  _each member_ of the team? Were they all this funny and catchy and... _special_ ? 

The look on Asahi's face said it all. The cheer might not have lasted long, and might even been trivial to everyone else in the gym. But to Asahi—someone who'd never heard anything like it before—it meant the world. He puffed out his chest like he was the most famous and talented Ace in Japan. 

His pride and happiness spread through the team like an infection. Over on the bench, Coach Ukai was holding his belly to try and keep his huffing laughter under control.

Possession swapped a few times. Oikawa scored two service aces in a row, but his third was aimed directly at Nishinoya. The bright-orange libero dived for it, caught it with the very edge of his palm, and sent it directly up. A perfect set up for Kageyama.

 

_WHATCHA GONNA DO? WHATCHA GONNA DO?_

_WHEN THE BALL WON'T HIT THE GROUND BECAUSE OF NISHINOYA YUU?!_

 

By the time the chant was done, Kageyama had linked with Daichi, and the scores were level again.

5-5.

The teams whacked the ball back and forth. 

Point Karasuno.

Point Seijoh.

Point Seijoh.

Point Karasuno.

At 15-17 in Seijoh's favor, Kageyama and Hinata pulled the trigger on their freak quick.

Watari was caught completely off guard.

Point Karasuno.

 

_HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE HIM THERE?_

_HE'S ON THE GROUND! HE'S IN THE AIR!_

_HINATA!_

 

Coach's laugh got stronger with every chant, and the more the team heard him laugh, the bigger their hearts got. Hinata drew himself up and waved at the cheer squad, who blew trumpets back at him. It was a weird thing, but Tadashi could  _feel_ the fun everyone was having. There was more weight to their movement, everyone's voice was a bit louder…hell, even Seijoh couldn't keep the amusement from their faces.

Tadashi wasn't used to feeling confidence like this. Not in volleyball, and not in general. When so many people thought you deserved to be at this match—that you can  _win_ match—, it made all the difference. He was twitching on the spot, wishing he could get out on to the court and help out. Him! Tadashi! Actually  _wanted_ to go out and launch a jump-float serve. 

_This_ is what it was like to be in a real match.

Oikawa to serve. Nishinoya subbed for Hinata.

Seijoh's point.

Karasuno's point.

Seijoh's point.

Iwaizumi lined up for a particularly strong spike, but found himself face-to-face with Tsukki. The ball slammed off of his forearms and straight down. Point Karasuno.

 

_HIT THE BALL WITH ALL YOUR STRENGTH!_

_GIVE IT ALL YOUR POWER!_

_YOU'LL NEVER GET THE BALL THROUGH TSUKISHIMA TOWER!_

 

Coach's voice was getting hoarse.

Even Tsukki couldn't completely hide his smile.

18-19.

Tanaka slammed a cross-court spike right by Oikawa's nose.

 

_SCORES SO MANY POINTS IT'S HARDLY FAIR!_

_DOESN'T EVEN NEED A LOCK OF HAIR!_

_TANAKA! Woop! Woop! TANAKA!_

 

Seijoh. Karasuno. Seijoh. Seijoh. Karasuno. Seijoh.

21-23 to Seijoh.

Iwaizumi fired a spike straight at Daichi. He got his arms under it, bent his legs, and sent it right to Kageyama's sweet spot. A quick look left, an exaggerated look right, and he gently tipped the ball over the net. Karasuno's point.

 

_IS HE GOING THIS WAY?_

_IS HE GOING THAT WAY?_

_WHEN KAGEYAMA'S GOT THE BALL,_

_YOU'RE GONNA HAVE A BAD DAY!_

 

22-23.

Their next attempt at a quick was blocked.

22-24.

Kageyama and Hinata combined for another freak quick.

23-24.

And another.

24-24.

The next attempt was received, and Oikawa set Iwaizumi up for an ear-splitting spike.

24-25.

It was Seijoh's serve, and Oikawa stepped up to the line. Tadashi felt like he was about to collapse into a puddle of frustration. Why— _why_ in god's very very unmerciful name—did Oikawa always seem to be in the perfect spot for a set-winning serve?

Seijoh's cheer squads were no slouch, either.

Oikawa tossed the ball, and their slow-building 'ohhhhh' filled the air.

Oikawa jumped, slapped the ball, and sent it whistling through the air.

Ace.

Set to Seijoh, 26-24.

Tadashi  _tsk_ 'd. 

“Damn it!” Suga said.

It was close, and nobody could say Karasuno hadn't given it their best. But the first set was lost. No matter what happened from here, the pressure would be a lot higher. Every inch of lead Seijoh got on the scoreboard was just  _that_ much harder Karasuno would have to sprint to catch them.

Tadashi turned to walk to the coach's bench.

A sudden, shrill  _screeching_ noise stopped him dead.

The crowd was squealing at the top of their lungs. Or at least the girls were. Tadashi snapped his head around to see what was going on, straining to figure out where the epicenter of the incredible sonic quake might be. Somewhere near Seijoh's bench…

His eyes went wide.

Oikawa had his arm around Iwaizumi's shoulder, and the two were bent down low, whispering to one another. Oikawa's mouth could only have been an inch from Iwaizumi's ear. A long, gentle pat on the back and they broke apart again. They ignored the screams. Like this was something that happened  _all_ the time.

Was that...were they…

“Yamaguchi,” Daichi said, slapping him on the back.

Tadashi just about jumped out of his own skin as he turned to face his red-faced, sweating captain.

“Sorry!”

“Come on,” Daichi said. “Huddle.”

He joined the huddle near Coach, and they went through their usual set break talk. Tsukishima, stop doing this. Hinata, you're doing this too much. Tanaka, stop swearing as you spike.

Tadashi paid attention as best he could, but he couldn't stop his brain from replaying that moment between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Tadashi barely knew a thing about Iwaizumi, and he certainly hadn't made any public announcement about coming out. They just...they looked so  _intimate_ . Even the crowd thought so.

The crowd…

Something about it bothered him.

“Yamaguchi, get set,” Coach said. Tadashi jolted himself upright. “If we get into a pinch, well...”

He was flustered from thinking about Oikawa and Iwaizumi. His brain wasn't working right.

“Yes?” he said. And he waited for Coach to continue.

Coach's eyebrows shot up.

“We might really need a great recipe for tea cake.”

“I...what?”

“We'll need you to serve!” Coach bellowed. “Where's your head?”

Tadashi went pink as the team started to chuckle around him.

“Right!” he said. “Sorry!”

“Okay,” Coach said. “Everyone stay focused. And keep your spirits up!”

Nishinoya pounded his chest.

“Spirit is one thing we don't need help with,” he said, and waved to the stands.

Tadashi looked and saw Taiga waving back, along with dozens of the others. The ones at the back blew trumpets and pounded on their drums, and the air was filled up with that shaking atmosphere again.

He was flooded with warmth and calm when he saw Taiga's eyes flick to him. He reached up and waved, and Taiga smiled. Such a nice smile. The kind of smile that had plans for you—like it was just happy  _you_ were happy. Taiga waved back.

“Back to it!” Daichi said. “Be ready in reserve!”

And the announcer was back to whip the crowd into a frenzy once more. He whooped and warbled about what an exciting first set it was, and spent way too long asking if the crowd was ready for more. Finally, once their answers were loud enough for his liking, he declared game-on.

The whistle blew, and Kageyama opened the serving.

The cheers were just as loud. The action was just as intense. But this time, Tadashi was distracted.

He couldn't keep his eyes off Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

Oikawa set up a team mate for a perfect spike, and there was Iwaizumi. At his side. Patting him on the shoulder. In the next play, Oikawa fell short of saving a ball by only an inch. Again, Iwaizumi was there. Cupping the back of Oikawa's neck and giving him a reassuring shake.

The girls in the crowd went wild again.

Tadashi couldn't figure it out.

Had they been doing this through the first set?

“Ahhh,” Suga said. “Two points ahead already!”

Tadashi forced himself back to the game.

8-6 in Karasuno's favour.

It was moving much quicker than the first set. Kageyama and Hinata had fallen into a rushing rhythm, sending quick attack after quick attack at Seijoh. It seemed to have knocked Seijoh off balance, and before long their lead was even greater. Tadashi watched as it ticked over to 14-9. Then 15-9.

With every point, their cheer squad got louder and louder.

 

_FLY, HINATA, FLY! FLY, HINATA, FLY!_

_KEEP RACKING UP POINTS_

_AND MAKE THE OTHERS CRY!_

 

Tsukki seemed to be on top form, blocking Iwaizumi time after time. Nishinoya was working overtime to keep Oikawa's serve under control, too.

 

_NISHINOYA YUU! NISHINOYA YUU!_

_SAVED EVERY BALL BEFORE,_

_AND HE'LL GET THE NEXT ONE, TOO!_

 

But Tadashi was obsessed with Seijoh's setter and his ace. Whenever something went wrong, they'd comfort one another. When something went right, they'd congratulate one another. Their hands were always on each other in some way—draped across Iwaizumi's back, clamped around Oikawa's bicep, patting each other's ribs. Every time, the crowd would lose its collective mind. Oikawa's casual slap of Iwaizumi's ass drew a particularly loud shriek.

Tadashi narrowed his eyes.

Were they playing to the crowd on purpose?

Why did that make him  _furious_ ?

A stinging  _crack_ rang out through the gym, and Asahi posted another point for Karasuno. 19-13, now. Tadashi clenched his fists and hissed  _yesss_ under his breath.

“Time out!” the referee yelled.

It wasn't a surprise—all the momentum was with Karasuno, and Seijoh needed to break it somehow. A time out was a sure-fire way to take a breath. As the teams went to their respective benches, Tadashi gave himself permission to tune out a little. Coach wouldn't have any advice for them right now apart from 'don't go off the boil'.

He kept a side-eye on Oikawa and Iwaizumi, bunched up together in the team huddle on their side of the net. Every so often, Oikawa would look over at Karasuno, and something about the look in his eye made Tadashi squirm.

Down six points, they should have been feeling the pressure. Karasuno had  _never_ held them to so few points before, and it ought to have unsettled them a little bit.

But Oikawa wasn't unsettled. He was smiling.

_Smirking_ , more like.

“What's going on over there?” Tadashi said so only Tsukki would hear. 

Tsukki looked over just in time to see the Seijoh huddle  _heave_ as everyone on the team shouted as one,  _Yes, Captain!_ Oikawa shouted something back at them, and they all answered at the same time again.  _Yes, Captain!_ He did it again, call-and-response, getting louder each time. By the time he was at the end of his performance, everyone in the gym could hear him.

“Are we giving up?” Oikawa shouted.

_No, Captain!_

“Will we give them this set?”

_No, Captain!_

“Will we give them the match?”

_No, Captain!_

“Who are we?”

_AOBA JOHSAI!_

“Who'll win this match?”

_AOBA JOHSAI!_

“Then show me!”

_YES, CAPTAIN!_

They broke apartand ran back to the court, taking their positions in an instant. The crowd couldn't get enough. It was as though Oikawa had taken the time to repair not only his own team's spirit, but the spirit of their supporters on top of that. 

Tadashi gaped at them.  _All_ of Karasuno did. Their mouths hung open like they'd just witnessed a UFO land in the middle of the gym.

Suga spoke first.

“That's...not usual, is it? For Oikawa?”

“No,” Kageyama said. “He prefers to lead quietly.”

“Really?” Tanaka said, face scrunched up. “Because it sounds to me like he wants to be a total show-off.”

“Doesn't he know he's six points down?” Nishinoya said.

Coach cut across them.

“All right, all right. Just ignore it. Listen to our noise, not theirs. The set's ours to take. Go out and there and do it.”

“Yes!” The regulars chanted.

Tadashi followed Suga and Ennoshita back to the reserve position and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut. All this business with Iwaizumi, holding a pep rally on the court…

Something fishy was going on.

The set resumed with the blow of a whistle, and Karasuno scored the first point to make it 20-13. Tadashi really wanted to feel like this set was sewn up. Seven points was  _more_ than enough to clinch things.

And yet…

The next point went to Seijoh. Watari received one of Tanaka's spikes—a cracker that would have beaten almost  _any_ other opponent—and sent it back to Oikawa. Iwaizumi closed out the point, and possession was back with them.

At least it wasn't Oikawa's serve.

Still, another point to Seijoh.

Another.

_Another_ .

“Don't mind!” Suga called out.

Tadashi was clenching his fists so hard, he felt his thumbs might snap off.

Nishinoya caught a spike that was meant to claim another point for Seijoh, and sent the ball Kageyama's way. Hinata snuck a quick spike past the tips of Watari's fingers.

Another point for Karasuno. 21-17.

That was all Watari was willing to give, though.

Hinata's next quick was received, defused, and turned against the little middle blocker. Point Seijoh.

And now it was Oikawa's turn to serve.

“Damn it!” Ennoshita said. “How are they doing this?”

The squirming in Tadashi's gut wouldn't go away.

Oikawa did this on purpose.

He didn't know how, and he could never, ever prove it. But it was the kind of suspicion he didn't need proof for. One of those self-evident things that was obvious because there couldn't be  _any_ other explanation. The lights, the cameras, the crowd...the showmanship.

Seijoh choreographed this.

Somehow, they must have.

Tadashi was starting to feel like a piece on a game board.

Oikawa slammed a service ace home.

Another one.

Another.

The Karasuno cheer squad did its best, but it was being drowned out by the shrill cheers of Seijoh's supporters. They were energized by this against-the-odds comeback, and they wanted Oikawa to know it.

Tadashi, Suga and Ennoshita yelled as loud as they could.

“Stay calm! This receive is all yours! You've got it!”

But it was like screaming into a jet engine. No-one could hear them.

Oikawa lined up for another serve and fired it across the net.

Nishinoya, from out of nowhere, appeared under the ball. Tadashi yelped as it went high, and connected with Kageyama. Asahi slammed the spike across the net, and it bounced off of a Seijoh arm and out of bounds.

Point Karasuno.

_Finally_ .

The regulars on the court celebrated like they'd just won Nationals.

“Twenty-two to twenty-one!” Suga said. “How did this happen?”

Tadashi's heart pounded louder than the drums in the stands, and he glared at Oikawa.

How, indeed.

Karasuno were back on serve. Takeda called a time out, and Tadashi felt an arm on his shoulder. He jumped a foot off the ground as he spun to see who it was.

Shimizu.

Handing him a number 10.

He gaped at it.

No, not a time out. A player substitution.

_Now?_ He looked over at Coach.  _You're putting me in_ now _?_

Coach nodded, just once. 

Shimizu pushed the substitution paddle into his hand, and spoke to him in her low, soft voice.

“Coach says 'remind them what it feels like to score. One point is all we need to take the front foot.' They haven't scored a real point since the last time out. We just need one point, Yamaguchi.”

He looked down at the number 10 and saw his fingers going white against the plastic edges. He'd been so busy worrying about Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and so convinced the second set was theirs already, he'd forgotten he might be called on to serve. And now, in a whirlwind, without time to think, it was his time.

Shimizu led him to the edge of the court, and the referee blew the whistle to confirm the replacement. Hinata ran by him, sweat pouring from his chin like it was a watering can. He slapped Yamaguchi's hand as he took the paddle.

“I'm counting on you, Yamaguchi,” he said.

Tadashi nodded.

Took a deep breath.

Stepped forward.

And then, the second his feet hit crossed the line:

 

_COMES ON TO THE COURT,_

_AND THEY'RE SHAKING IN THEIR BOOTS! HE'S—_

_OUR JUMP-FLOATING,_

_PINCH-SERVING BOY YAMAGUCHI!_

 

The little laugh in his chest wouldn't be kept down. It shuffled its way through his lungs, up his throat and out of his mouth. With it went all the stress and nerves he'd built up in the last few seconds. That one laugh—a tiny little perspective change—was enough to change everything. The squirming in his gut was burned away by heat. The jitters in his muscles were squeezed out by the force of his own strength.

Karasuno was cheering for him.

_Taiga_ was cheering for him.

The firm-line frown of his mouth was broken apart. When it closed again, it was set in a smile. He gripped the ball between him palms, and stood himself at the service line.

“Yamaguchi!” he heard Suga call out. “You know what to do!”

Tadashi nodded at the reserve bench.

Then, he searched out Oikawa.

And stared directly into his eyes.

He didn't mean it to be aggressive. He wasn't trying to assert his dominance, or be alpha, or any of that boring stuff some guys do. As if he  _could,_ anyway. Freckles and skinny legs and one single unruly tuft of hair weren't classic signs of a hard-ass. 

All he wanted was for Oikawa to notice him.

And to remember.

Oikawa held his gaze steady—not worried, not mad. Just neutral. Tadashi hung on to their eye contact for what seemed like a reasonable amount of time. Then he kept it up for two more full seconds. It wasn't much, but it'd be enough for Oikawa to know. This serve was for  _him._ From Karasuno's number twelve.

“Tadashi,” he whispered to himself.

He tossed the ball, watched it go, and jumped after it.

“Yama _guchi_ ,” he said, slamming his hand into the ball.

It was a good hit.

He forgot to breathe as the ball jittered toward the net.

It dipped. It floated. It curved. It dipped  _again_ …

And feather-touched the tape on top of the net. The ball angled sharply, spinning after the contact, and crashed to the ground on Seijoh's side of the net.

One meter behind Watari. One meter in front of Oikawa.

Karasuno erupted. Their cheer squad erupted.

Tadashi's heart erupted.

Nishinoya and Tanaka, rooted to the spot so they wouldn't break the rules, dropped to their knees and stretched their arms to him. Daichi and Kageyama still looked focused, but sent him their most vigorous nods of approval. Tsukki—as cool as ever—flicked his head toward the stands.

 

_WHAT'S THAT WOOSH? WHAT'S THAT WHISTLE?_

_YOU JUST GOT A TASTE OF THE SIDEWINDER MISSILE!_

 

Taiga, his whole body lurching with the power he put into the chant, was beaming at him. At court level, Coach was wearing his most smug told-you-so smile. Like he somehow knew Tadashi wasn't going to flub the serve this time.

As the tingles that surged through him started to subside, he realized he'd been wrong earlier.

_This_ is what it felt like to be in a real match.

As far as everyone was concerned, Tadashi had done his job.

But out here now, with everyone's cheers at his back and the ball back between his hands, he felt a thousand feet tall. He was invincible. One point wasn't enough. Not  _nearly_ enough.

23-21.

To take the set, he needed three.

“Two more,” he whispered.

He took aim on Oikawa again. Same eye contact. Same amount of time. Only this time, Oikawa wasn't neutral. He wore a distinct scowl, and was starting to wonder what all the staring was about. Even some of the others on the team snuck glances at their captain to see what was going on.

_It's coming again_ , he thought to Oikawa.  _Just like before._

“Tadashi,” he whispered, and tossed the ball.

Stride forward. Jump.

“Yama _guchi!_ ” 

His hand slapped the ball, and the contact felt even better than before. It was travelling almost twice as fast. He felt his chest freeze up as he tried to guess where it would land. It was going to clear the net easily, but at this rate…

Oikawa called it first.

“Out!” he yelled.

The ball jinked and juked through the air, dipped…

And slammed down on the baseline.

Oikawa's face went white. The referee blew the point in favor of Karasuno, and the crowd dissolved into a rabble. His teammates shouted his name. Their cheersquad cheered for him. Seijoh's supporters yelled support to their team, trying to keep them encouraged.

“Set point!” Coach was screaming from the sideline. “Keep your heads!”

Tadashi collected the ball, and began to search out Oikawa's eyes. This time, though, he didn't need to. Oikawa was upright, hand on his hip, giving Tadashi the most unsettling death glare he'd ever seen. Not even his father could manage anything like it. It was specifically designed to make a man wither, to activate his fight or flight instinct and get him to run.

And he felt all those things, sure.

But it was nothing compared to the determination underneath.

Tadashi gripped the ball between his hands, and set himself up for his next serve. Oikawa bent down, hands on his knees. There was no way he was going to let the next ball touch the ground. All around him, his team mates took a subconscious half-step away to give him plenty of space.

By now, all of Seijoh were enrapt by their staring contest. They knew this had become a contest between two players only. Who was this number twelve from Karasuno? Who was  _he_ to mark their captain in the middle of the match for a one-on-one duel? What gave him the right? And more importantly, how had he managed to steal two points right from underneath Oikawa's nose?

Tadashi took a deep breath.

_Remember me_ , he thought.

“Tadashi,” he whispered.

He tossed the ball, and jumped after it.

“ _Yamaguchi_!”

He slammed the ball.

The contact was  _still_ good. 

It bobbled over the net, sailed toward the ground…

And landed in the space between an unprepared Iwaizumi and Watari.

Tadashi gasped.

It worked.

The bait and switch.

Make Oikawa think he was marked, then aim for anyone else.

Everything turned into a haze of light and noise. He'd never heard his name screamed by so many people all at once. Someone—probably Nishinoya, though maybe Tanaka—slammed in to him and wrestled him to the court. They were soon joined by the rest of the team as they piled on, hands and arms grasping to pat him anywhere they could.

And through it all, Tadashi did his best to concentrate on Oikawa. Seijoh's setter was only just now standing up, slow and angry, with his arms folded across his chest. He was still glaring at Tadashi, who could do nothing but smile back.

Right as the announcer's voice kicked in.

“Karasuno wins the second set, 25-21!”

Tadashi saw Oikawa turn and walk off, and he closed his eyes to savor the image. The Grand King of Aoba Johsai, Japan's first openly gay athlete and professional bulldozer of Tadashi's private life, finally saw him.

Finally, he knew there was a pinch server out there named Tadashi Yamaguchi, and that he wasn't just a piece on a game board.

This time, he'd remember.


	13. For Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly early update today because I'll be away this weekend! I must offer the usual EXTREME THANKS to everyone who takes the time to read, kudos, comment and/or share this story! You're all the GREATEST.
> 
> Going to be interesting to see what the reaction is to this chapter. Just keep in mind that there's plenty of story left, and anything could happen from here ;-)
> 
> Enjoy!

Tadashi screamed until his throat was raw.

Taiga's spirit squad ramped up their cheers until they were one long, continuous song.

Coach used up all their time-outs, and told the team exactly what they needed to hear to play their best.

And they _did_ play their best. They played better than both other sets combined. Nishinoya threw himself after so many balls, he'd be more bruise than man tomorrow. Tsukki was a concrete wall, determined to keep out any ball they tried to fire past him. Kageyama and Hinata linked up beautifully for their quick attacks. Tanaka and Asahi's arm cannons were firing at full power.

And still it wasn't enough.

Seijoh won the set—and the match—25 points to 22.

Oikawa was different this time around. He and Iwaizumi's on-court closeness was toned down, and he kept a tighter grip on the game. Still smirking, still laughing, still trash-talking...just more serious about it. This was the same Oikawa that defeated Karasuno at the inter-high.

The Grand King of the court.

Tadashi spent most of the third set terrified he'd be asked to serve again. Twenty minutes ago, his team mates had wrestled him to the floor, chanted his name—Noya called him a _savior_. There was no way he could live up to that if he went back out there. Three no-touch service aces in a row was something he might never, ever do again.

Maybe Coach knew that.

“Ahhh, sorry,” Nishinoya said as they walked from the court. He was close at Tadashi's side, hair flattened with sweat. “You kept us in the game, Yamaguchi. All for nothing. I'm sorry.”

Tadashi's voice froze in his throat.

_Nishinoya_ , Maybe the hardest working player on the team. The guy who'd done more to keep them in the game than all the rest combined. A libero whose name was known to every team in the Miyagi prefecture. 'If you want to score points, keep the ball away from Nishinoya', they said. It was a whole chapter in the training manual.

_That_ guy was apologizing. To him. To Tadashi, who—if you included these three points—had scored a grand total of _three points_ for Karasuno.

“Noya, I...don't say that,” he said.

He threw a look over his shoulder and saw Oikawa leading his team from the court. The crowd was on their feet, cheering them as they waved. The cameras snagged Oikawa for an interview, which he gladly made time for.

Oikawa. The first gay role model for high school sports ever.

Tadashi smiled.

“It wasn't for nothing,” he said.

 

***

 

Coach stood at the door of the dressing room and shouted inside.

“There's a lot of traffic congestion as the car park empties,” he said. “We'll be stuck for a half hour at least. You can wait on the bus or within the grounds—just stay in sight and don't cause trouble.”

A groan went through the change room as everyone wondered how to fill the empty half-hour. Some whispered about how far out of sight they could go. Others about how much trouble they could cause.

But not Tadashi.

He finished lacing his shoes and reached inside his bag.

He found his phone and brought it out, trying his best not to let it drop from his shaking hand. He could feel his pulse in the veins of his fingers, pounding against the hard edges of the little device. It got faster and faster as he sat and stared.

Now was the time.

“Tsukki,” he said, quiet as he could in the echo-y room.

“Hm?”

“If anyone asks,” he said, unlocking his phone and holding it up. “I left my jacket inside, and I've gone to get it.”

Tsukki looked at the phone screen.

Oikawa's article was still loaded. The comment from PINCH-SERVER-GC dead center, pinch-zoomed so it filled the entire screen. Tsukki saw it, and a tiny smile tried to break out on his face.

“We won't leave without you,” he said. “Do you know where he is?”

“No Idea,” Tadashi said, trying to hide the little squeak in his voice. “Maybe I'll never find him and save myself the heart attack.”

Tsukki puffed a soundless laugh through his nostrils.

“Good luck.”

Tadashi took tiny steps as he left the changing room. He wanted to tip-toe, draw as little attention to himself as possible. He opened the door to the media marshaling area just a crack, checked there was no-one inside, and walked through. There was no TV equipment here now. Just a big, empty room with desks and chairs shoved to the sides.

He skulked through the room like, the soles of his shoes soundless on the carpet. He felt like one of those action heroes in a movie as they sneak into an enemy base. Except his goal wasn't to kill the bad guy. It was to talk to him.

Well, _find_ him first. Then talk to him.

The gymnasium was empty. There wasn't a single straggler in the stands to disrupt the utter quiet of the huge space— _so_ different to how it'd been an hour ago. The oddness of it stopped him for a second, and he breathed in the silence. Threw a look to the spot where he'd served from. Grinned and turned around.

The hallways were just as quiet. Every so often he passed a doorway, and checked inside for signs of Seijoh. One after the other, they turned up empty. Classrooms and storage closets. An office of some kind. Some doors even led back outside. With every empty room, his heartbeat settled down a little.

Oikawa was gone.

Of course he was—they'd be back in their club room by now, celebrating their win. Talking about the incredible noise and atmosphere on the court. Cursing that annoying pinch server who cost them the second set.

“Heh,” he snorted.

He turned on the spot and made his way back to the media marshaling area that was attached to the changing room.

So he hadn't found Oikawa. At least he _tried_ to, and that was something old Tadashi would never have done. Sure, he half-knew he'd never find one player in a building this size—let alone the captain and star of the show. But it still counted. Tsukki could vouch for him, and Taiga would be proud of him.

The media marshaling area was just ahead.

He reached out, put his hand on the door to push, and—

“So _nothing_ ,” a loud, angry voice wafted from beneath the door. “You're telling me it was all for nothing?”

Tadashi's entire body turned to stone.

That was Oikawa's voice.

Oikawa was _right_ behind this door.

“I'm telling you we have to be patient, Tooru.”

And someone else was with him. A man with a deep, booming voice that seemed to slither through the cracks in the doorway. Tadashi leaned in and held his breath as the second voice carried on.

“You're asking a lot.”

“I'm asking for no more than I deserve!” Oikawa said. He was forcing so much energy into his words they were starting to creak in his throat. “You said to me. You _promised_ you could land me those sponsors.”

Tadashi let out the breath he was holding, careful not to make a sound. He knew he shouldn't be listening. The smart thing to do would be to turn around, find another way back to the changing room to collect his things, and forget what he'd heard. But at the same time…

Oikawa was really angry, and that anger rooted Tadashi's feet to the floor.

He needed to know what this was about.

The booming man answered.

“These people are conservative, Tooru. It's how they became rich. You can't expect them to come around so quickly to something as risky as...well, you.”

“I _didn't_ expect them to. You convinced me they would if I 'played it your way'.”

Tadashi's lips curled downward.

_Play_ what _your way?_

He pressed his ear up against the door.

“I said they _might—”_

Oikawa wasn't about to let booming man talk.

“And I _did_ play it your way. I went public with that ridiculous magazine interview. Modeling callbacks from that? Zero. I set up this exhibition match even though coach was against it. I convinced the team to let Karasuno take the lead in the second set so we could come from behind. Which, by the way, was harder than straight-up winning. We won the crowd. What more do these sponsors want?”

“Tooru—”

“And do you _realize_ how I had to beg Iwa to be so open on the court? He wants nothing to do with this stupid charade! But I told him I needed him, and that it would work out for both of us. He believed me. And now I have to go to him and say after all that we have a grand total of ZERO yen.”

Tadashi's ear slipped off the door.

He felt like he couldn't get his breath properly.

Charade? Sponsors? _Money_?

His knees went weak as he tried to process what he'd just heard. Everything about the exhibition match made sense, now. The way Oikawa made a show of hyping up his team in the second set. The way he and Iwaizumi had been so openly affectionate with one another. Hell, even the exhibition match itself!

None of it was real.

Somewhere behind his nose and left eye, a nerve was twitching.

He looked down at his phone.

The same phone PINCH-SERVER-GC had poured his heart into with Taiga's help. Thanking Oikawa Tooru for all he'd done to help him out, even if he hadn't directly meant to. Even if it'd been really hard. Even if it was _still_ really hard.

PINCH-SERVER-GC was an idiot.

That wasn't why Oikawa did what he did.

The twitching nerve behind his eye started to sting.

_It was all about money_.

“I know you're upset, Tooru—” booming man said.

“You could say that! We had _one_ goal today, and we didn't make any money at all. This whole match was for nothing.”

Tadashi's fists closed tighter, his teeth clenched so hard together he could taste blood.

_Money!_

“Go tell your business pals I said they can kiss my un-marketably gay ass.”

The booming voice boomed suddenly louder.

“ _Tooru_ ,” he said. “I might be your agent, but I'm also your father. Show some respect.”

“I think that's part of the problem,” Oikawa said. “I think my agent wants this to work out, but my father doesn't.”

Silence.

Thick, heavy silence.

“That's unfair, Tooru.”

“I know it is, Dad. Everything about this is unfair.”

Footsteps.

Footsteps getting _closer_.

Tadashi's eyes went wide as panic surged through him.

_Hide. HIDE!_

But there was nowhere. Flat walls, long corridors and no corners for what seemed like miles. In desperation, he flattened himself against the wall on the right side of the media marshaling door.

_Don't look this way. Don't walk this way…_

Oikawa bust through the door and spun immediately in Tadashi's direction. Tadashi felt like a deer with a hunter's rifle leveled at him. They were as good as face-to-face. He could hear Oikawa's hot, jagged breaths rushing in and out of his nose. Could see the sheen of moisture in the pink corners of his eyes.

Eyes that narrowed.

“Pinch server,” Oikawa said. “You really screwed up my two set victory today.”

Tadashi opened his mouth but no words came. All he could think about was the phone in his hand—the comment left by PINCH-SERVER-GC—and how he couldn't let Oikawa see it under _any_ circumstances. He hid the phone behind his back. He'd snap it in two before he let Oikawa see what was written on the screen.

Oikawa jerked his head forward.

“Do you have a problem with me, or is staring all you know how to do?”

Before he knew it, Tadashi felt rage swelling up in his gut.

And not just in there. It spread out, surging through the muscles in his shoulder, arm and fist. Did he really want to punch someone? Is that what this was?

“No,” Tadashi said. “No problem.”

Oikawa shook his head and stepped back.

“Whatever,” he said. “See you in spring, jump-floater.”

And he started to walk away.

“Yamaguchi,” Tadashi called after him. The word echoed through the corridor. “My name is Yamaguchi.”

Oikawa paused just long enough for the name to sink in.

Then strode away.

 

***

 

Tadashi made it to the bus just as the team was boarding.

His head was buzzing from what just happened. It wasn't a feeling he was used to—blood on fire, eyes tight like they were squinting against a bright light. He couldn't stop squeezing his fists open and closed, and every so often a snort would force its way out of his nose. He was like the world's skinniest bull, looking for something to charge at.

But all of that melted away when he saw Taiga waiting at the bus doors. Waving. Smiling.

That smile could stop much bigger charging bulls than Tadashi.

Tadashi grinned back, and his footsteps quickened without his consent. Taiga jogged over to meet him and—before Tadashi could get nervous about it, or self-conscious, or worried that someone would see—they launched into a tight hug.

Taiga gripped him around the ribs and squeezed.

“The hero of Karasuno,” he said.

Tadashi laughed.

“I'm just happy I scored.”

“And against _him.”_

Tadashi closed his eyes and tried not to see Oikawa's face.

“Yeah,” he said, and broke the hug. “Against him.”

His brain finally caught up with the rest of him, and he snuck a nervous look at the bus. Nobody seemed to be looking his way apart from Mr Takeda, who was pointing at his watch. Tadashi nodded at him, and patted Taiga's shoulder.

“They're calling me,” he said. “But…Taiga, thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For everything you did today.”

Taiga smirked, returning Tadashi's shoulder touch with a closed-fist bump. But just as the knuckles made contact, something about his face changed. He cocked his head sideways, and the smirk vanished.

“Are you okay?” he said.

Tadashi snorted.

Where to start?

“I'll tell you later,” he said. “When there's time.”

“But you're okay?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “I'll get there.”

Taiga didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway.

“Call you tonight, Guchi-chan,” he said.

And they split apart, each headed for their own bus. Tadashi watched Taiga out of the corner of his eye as far as he could and imagined what it would be like to follow him. To ask Coach if he could travel home on the drama club bus instead. Nestle into the seat beside Taiga and fall asleep on his shoulder. Taiga's long, pianist's fingers combing through his hair…

“Quickly, Yamaguchi,” Mr Takeda said.

And then he was on the bus, flopping into the seat next to Tsukki.

“Did you find Oikawa?” Tsukki asked.

Just the mention of the name was enough to bring his blood back to the boil. He felt his lips pull into a sneer, and slammed his seatbelt into the clip like he was trying to punish it.

“I found him, all right,” he said.

Tsukki was watching him carefully.

“And?”

Tadashi sighed.

“And Oikawa Tooru is an asshole,” he said.

“We knew that.”

“Multiply it by a hundred,” he said. “It's...he's...”

He couldn't get the words right. The bus was too noisy. He was too worked up. His skin felt like it was crackling with electricity. He wouldn't be able to explain it here without getting mad, and if his voice got too high everyone would hear.

“I'll tell you later,” he said.

Tsukki was, if nothing else, good at reading people.

“Okay,” he said, and sat back in his seat. “But I still think you speak best when you're a bit angry. You say what you really mean when you aren't trying to filter it. Don't calm down too much between here and home.”

Tadashi snorted.

It was the second time Tsukki had said that.

The last time, it was when he first messaged Taiga.

Taiga, who was sitting all alone on the music club bus…

He snatched his phone from his pocket and brought up Taiga's message window. His let all the anger he was feeling at Oikawa flood through him, and poured it all out through his fingers. When he was done, he set the phone down and took a few deep breaths.

_You say what you really mean when you aren't trying to filter it._

He'd only managed three words.

Three simple, clear words.

 

_Let's be boyfriends?_

 

He hit send.


	14. Gunslinger Tadashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys! The end of Part 2!
> 
> With SO SO many thanks to everyone for reading and commenting and kudosing and sharing. You are ALL the greatest. I hope this wrap-up chapter is a nice little teaser of what's to come in part 3 :-D

“Money?” Tsukki said.

Tadashi had to un-clench his teeth to answer.

“Money,” he said. “He was _very_ clear about that.”

Their news segment was due to air at 8:30pm that night, and Coach invited the entire team to watch it at his family store. He'd recorded the match from the TV earlier, and suggested they all watch it back so they could examine their mistakes. He pushed his TV out into the fresh produce section, wheeled the wooden carts filled with fruits and vegetables to the side, and crammed the team into the gaps between them.

Somewhere around the end of the first set, Tadashi discreetly excused himself so that he and Tsukki could finish the conversation they'd started on the bus. They were leaned up against the freezers at Coach Ukai's store, right in front of the ice cream and frozen cakes. The rest of the team were far too absorbed in the match to notice they'd gone. Tadashi could hear them over there now—as far from this section of the store as you could get. Shouting and laughing, sighing and chatting.

They were a noisy bunch, and that was a great smokescreen for a private conversation.

“Wasn't that the goal of the exhibition match from the beginning?” Tsukki said. “To get sponsors and endorsements?”

“Well, yeah,” Tadashi said. “But...that's not the part that gets me. The worst part is how fake it all is.”

“Fake?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “Like...he didn't want to do that article, you know? He did it because his father told him it'd generate buzz or something. And he didn't want to do the exhibition match, either. He even said he purposefully fell behind in the second set so they could stage a comeback. And then all that stuff with Iwaizumi! It's just...It's all _bullshit!_ None of it's real.”

Tsukki's eyebrows shot up and a smirk pinched the corner of his mouth.

“I don't often hear you swear.”

Tadashi snorted.

True enough. He'd inherited his mother's dull tongue. She could be falling head-first out of a plane into a sea of man-eating sharks and the worst she could muster would be an  _oh, bother_ . Once he saw her tell a pigeon to 'get lost', then throw a guilty look over her shoulder to check no-one heard.

“This isn't easy for me,” he said, and his voice was suddenly half as loud. “Ever since I can remember, I've been...I don't know. I feel like I've been nursing a wound. Like I've got a limp, and it's forcing me to walk instead of run. I'm always one word away from giving it all away, and I'm not ready for that. It's...it's just difficult, Tsukki.”

Tsukki nodded.

“Sure,” he said. “Of course.”

Tadashi sniffed.

“I thought Oikawa was trying to make it easier. I thought he knew what this feels like, and was trying to stop other people having to deal with it. But then I find out it's all an act, and he's doing it for publicity? This thing that's _so hard_ for me, and he's turned it into a cash machine? I mean, are you kidding me?”

“You sound like you're going to swear again.”

“I'm this close,” he said.

But he kept his language in check. It'd be really easy to get carried away again, and lose control of his voice. The last thing he needed was for Daichi to hear the shouting and come to investigate. Or for Nishinoya to overhear what they were saying, and start asking questions.

He snorted.

Even now—in the middle of a conversation about how he felt trapped by his sexuality—he had to hold himself back. He wondered just how much of his personality was really his, and how much of it was filtered out so people wouldn't find out what he was really like. Was there even a way to know? Was he buried so deep inside that he'd never dig his way out?

“Being honest,” Tsukki said, “I think we all knew there was something in it for the Grand King. If he was going to all this public effort, he must have had something to gain.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tadashi said. “I just didn't think it'd make me feel this bad. And I think about all the people who do look up to him—all the ones who left supportive comments on that article! There were dozens of them. They deserve a better role model than this.”

And then Tsukki said something that made Tadashi's red-hot temper freeze up.

“Maybe they deserve you,” he said.

At first they might as well have been four completely unconnected words. He sounded them out a few times in his head, mouthing them silently.  _Maybe_ they _deserve you..._ maybe _they deserve you_ ... _maybe they_ deserve _you..._

“What?” he eventually said.

Tsukki shrugged.

“Maybe you could follow his lead, but do it right this time. At least then Oikawa will have done some good by inspiring you.”

Tadashi's fingers felt colder than the freezer he was leaning against.

“Don't tease me, Tsukki.”

“I'm not,” Tsukki said. “It was just a thought.”

It was so ridiculous. The very idea. There were a thousand reasons why it could never happen—not least of which that Tadashi didn't  _want_ it to.

Coming out publicly was something Oikawa could do because he was a perfect storm of factors. Much as Tadashi hated him right now, he could still recognize all the things that made him a great choice for a role model. He was charismatic, and handsome, and popular. He was very good at volleyball—maybe one of the best in all of Japan. He had a small public profile already, and now it was even bigger. He had the confidence to stand underneath all the attention and the praise and the criticism and shoulder it. Strong legs! He had strong legs to take all that weight.

Tadashi had none of those things. He was nobody. A nobody with stick-legs.

“I could never—” he started.

“It was honestly just a thought,” Tsukki said. “Don't worry about it.”

But it was too late. He was already worried about it.

“I couldn't—”

He was cut off by a loud voice, shouted from clear across the store.

“Yamaguchi!” it was Coach. “Hurry up or you'll miss your moment!”

He snapped upright, pushing himself off the freezer door.

“Yes, coach!” he called back.

“Come on,” Tsukki said. “Come watch yourself embarrass the Fake King.”

Tadashi forced a smile—the Yamaguchi Grin! It'd been a while since he'd found himself wearing it—and followed Tsukki back to the produce section. As he passed through the aisles, he tried his best to push Tsukki's idea out of his head. Something about it had grabbed hold of his frontal lobes and wouldn't let go, and he had no idea why.

It terrified him. He didn't want to come out publicly. He didn't want to come out  _privately_ just yet! It was something he'd never, ever agree to. Something that was never going to happen.

And yet he felt as nervous as if he was just about to make the announcement to the entire team.

Why?

What was this  _nagging_ ?

He knew the answer must be inside him somewhere. But like so many other things, it was buried beneath the pile of barriers and blockades he had set up in there. They protected him from letting anyone see his true self, and he was grateful for that. But they also sometimes hid answers from him. Answers that could make things a lot more simple if he had them.

They were almost back to the team when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

That little vibration managed to calm him down a bit, at least. A smile broke out on his face as he reached for it. He already knew who it was. He swiped the unlock screen, loaded messages, and felt himself tingle as he read Taiga's latest text.

 

_Now we're boyfriends do I have to think of a new nickname for you or is Guchi-chan still fine? This is very important please write back quickly._

 

He snorted and tapped a reply as fast as he could.

 

_Guchi-chan is fine, tiger._

 

He and Tsukki took their seats beneath a tower of brush potatoes and onions. Right next to Kageyama and Hinata, who were propped up beneath a pile of lemons, limes and oranges. He'd no sooner gotten settled that his phone buzzed again.

 

_HAVE YOU BEEN CALLING ME THAT ALL THIS TIME? I don't consent. Stop at once._

 

Tadashi texted back quickly.

 

_Listen to you roar! =^.^=_

 

And he hid his phone before the reply could come back.

On the TV, Tadashi was just about to be subbed in for Hinata. It was the first time he'd ever seen himself in high-definition, full-motion video like this. He hated looking at his own photos, but this was something worse. He couldn't stop himself cringing at the way his hair flopped down over his ears, and at his skinny arms and legs, and the way his uniform puffed out in the middle because he couldn't fill it with muscle at the top. 

“Agh,” he said, the Yamaguchi Grin still plastered to his face. “I look like a scarecrow!”

There was a ripple of laughter through the team.

“The scarecrow that spooked Oikawa,” Daichi said.

“Here he goes!” Nishinoya said.

“Check out the death stare!” Tanaka said, laughing. “I didn't know you had it in you, Yamaguchi! Facing off against Oikawa like that.”

His first serve went in, and everyone laughed at the way Seijoh were caught so unawares. He felt an arm clap him on the back and turned to see Hinata beaming at him.

Tadashi laughed.

“I didn't know I had it me, either,” he said once things settled. “I just wanted Oikawa to know he wasn't going to get off easy.”

“He certainly didn't,” Coach said. “Serve number two.”

TV-Tadashi tossed the ball—the form looked good, even to Tadashi's self-conscious eyes—and it landed right on the baseline. The way Oikawa stared at the spot, mouth agape, made everyone in the room laugh even harder.

This time, Kageyama turned to him.

“Yamaguchi, nice serve.”

Tadashi blushed.

The highest praise Kageyama was capable of giving.

“Third serve, now,” Coach said. “And the best. Everyone watch closely.”

Tadashi didn't realize how long he'd spent staring Oikawa down, but the cameras caught it all. It must have been close to the full 8 seconds he was allowed between the ref's whistle and tossing the ball. He saw the way the other Seijoh players lost their focus as the stare-off stretched on. He saw the way they hesitated when it looked like the ball was running off course, because jump-float serves are unpredictable.

And he saw the way they were struck still when the ball landed right between the ace and the libero, nowhere near Oikawa.

“Misdirection,” Coach said. “You played a mental game with Seijoh, Yamaguchi. And it worked. Did you do it on purpose?”

“I...yeah,” he said. “I figured everyone thought I was trying to arm-wrestle with Oikawa, and that was a good time to serve it somewhere else.”

“It's called a Gunslinger's Gambit,” Coach said. “Tricking the other team into thinking you're in a one-on-one duel, then switching it to catch them off guard. I haven't seen it used in a long, long time. Well done.”

Tadashi couldn't do anything but nod. He saw himself buried under a pile of his teammates on the screen, and felt like the same thing was happening again. That rush of pride and adrenaline and  _joy_ that he'd never felt before, and maybe wouldn't ever again. He clung on to that feeling for a moment. Closed his eyes and let it warm him all the way through once more.

And then, when he thought things couldn't feel any better—when he was feeling cozy and comfortable outside and in—his phone buzzed, and the grin on his face tightened.

Taiga.

His boyfriend.

He had a  _boyfriend_ .

 

_Lucky you're cute, pinch server, or I would be so outraged right now._

 

He smiled at his phone like it was Taiga's face, and then pocketed it once more. He'd reply soon, when he had some privacy. For now, the match was still running.

The third set started, and before long Karasuno was behind. Coach pointed out a few of the things Seijoh were doing that allowed them to take such a steady lead. A lot of basic things that were difficult to get right, but that Oikawa made look easy. Kageyama had been right all those weeks ago—Seijoh were playing a style of volleyball specifically tailored to counter Karasuno's relentless attack power.

The space between serves shortened, and the points racked up steadily, and then it was over. The evening news was starting. Once the current affairs were out of the way, it'd move on to sports. For now, everyone chatted amongst themselves.

“Yamaguchi,” Coach said, waving him over.

“Yes, Coach?” Tadashi said, picking his way through the crowd of team mates on the shop floor.

“Here,” he said, holding out a slip of paper. “I was going through the game stats earlier. I thought you might like this one.”

Tadashi took the printout, and his eyebrows shot up as he deciphered the figures on the page. It was sorted by the column furthest to the right, labeled 'Service Aces – No Touch'. And over on the left, in order from most to least...

 

**1 –** Yamaguchi Tadashi (3)

**2 –** Oikawa Tooru (2)

**3 –** Kageyama Tobio (1)

**4 –** Iwaizumi Hajime (1)

 

Coach had underlined his name, and written in block capitals next to it: A BETTER SERVICE GAME THAN OIKAWA.

And that was it.

One too many feelings stirred up. One too many reasons to feel good about himself. The backs of his eyes stung as all that warmth and pride gathered strength and tried to flush out those weird tears you can only cry when you're happy. He was determined not to let it out in front of Coach, but...

The back of his throat tightened, and he knew he couldn't speak.

He bowed his head to Coach, Coach bowed back, and he walked away.

The stats weren't even that impressive. Oikawa managed eleven service aces across the three sets if you allowed for touches. But still, seeing his name there at the top of the list, Oikawa trailing behind...

He sat down next to Tsukki and bit down on his lip to try and get his emotions back under control. It was like he could feel the tears clawing at the corners of his eyes. Somehow—through sheer force of will and the most incredible Yamaguchi Grin he could muster—he kept them from  getting out .

Tsukki glanced at the printout.

“Nicely done, gunslinger Tadashi.”

Tadashi summoned all his energy to force some air through his throat.

“Thank you,” he said in barely a whisper.

“Hey, hey!” Nishinoya called from the front of the room. “We're on!”

A wave of 'shhh's went around the group, and everyone was suddenly glued to the TV. The sports presenter introduced the exhibition match quickly, then threw to the on-site reporter. There were establishing shots of the Aoba Johsai gymnasium, and some randomly lifted shots of the match in the background.

“Karasuno high school were knocked out of the inter-high volleyball tournament by Aoba Johsai earlier this year, and the captains were eager to settle the score.”

The scene cut to Daichi and Suga in the media marshaling room, and a cheer went up around the room. Daichi's eyes were wide, and his face was set into a bizarre smile that didn't suit his face one bit. He looked like a kindergartener being introduced to his school principal.

“We are honored to be invited to take part in such a high-profile event,” Daichi said, being slightly too careful to hit every t and d in his sentence. 

Beside him, Suga looked like he couldn't be more at home. He was relaxed and smiling his usual I'm-your-best-friend smile, hands tucked behind his back as he followed up on Daichi's line.

“Although the chance to pay them back is nice, too. We promise not to go too hard on them,” he said, and grinned right down the camera. He capped it all off with a thumbs up. 

Tadashi, despite the tightness in his chest and throat, giggled.

Daichi and Suga were two opposites. A wooden tower of tightly-wound tension on the left, and an angelic ray of sunshine on the right.

“Suga, that was _adorable_ ,” Tanaka teased.

Suga turned—the same grin on his face now as the one he'd just sent down the camera, like he'd passed it to himself through the screen.

“I am, aren't I?” he said, and whacked Tanaka on the thigh with a closed fist.

The second year yelped as he rolled away from his vice-captain.

The segment chugged along quickly. Everyone jeered when Oikawa came on screen, talking about the wonderful atmosphere and the excellent opportunity to play such a strong team. Footage of his impressive-looking serve was played as the reporter went through the match highlights and scores.

Tadashi got his own mention toward the end.

“Things would have ended a lot sooner were it not for a string of aces from Karasuno's number twelve, Yamaguchi Tadashi.” As she said his name, a shot of his final serve filled the screen. “Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to—”

His phone started buzzing.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four!

Texts from Taiga –  _YOU'RE FAMOUS._

Texts from his mother –  _We saw you on the news! We are so proud!_

Texts from his classmates from History class –  _hey man you were just on the news thats awesome_ .

That stinging behind his eyes wouldn't let up. The tears wanted out, and they wanted out  _now_ .

_Just stay in a bit longer_ , he told himself.  _Just a bit longer_ .

The segment was just wrapping up when the report's pitch changed. She was using that kind of 'and now for something _funny'_ voice that news people had when a novelty item came across their autocue.

“The final set ended shortly after, with the game going to Aoba Johsai. A good thing, too, if you ask our network censors!”

The camera cut to Hinata and Kageyama, standing next to one another with equally intense looks on their faces. It was from their interview in the media marshaling room, just before the match. Hinata's fists were clenched as he spoke  _loudly_ into the camera.

“We'll win today, and then I'll show you I am the greatest exhibitionist in all of Miyagi!” he said.

There was a pause, and from off-screen the reporter clarified.

“Exhibitionist?”

Hinata didn't miss a beat.

“That's right!”

Next to him, Kageyama nodded.

“It's true.”

Tadashi's mouth dropped open.

He read the caption at the bottom of the screen.

 

_Hinata Shoyou – Middle Blocker/Nudity Enthusiast_

 

The news report cut back to the sports anchor in the studio, who was chuckling to himself.

“As you can imagine, our camera crew was glad to be spared that particular spectacle,” he said. The desk anchors laughed with the sportscaster, and the news broadcast cut to a commercial.

Ukai's shop was dead quiet.

Nishinoya. Tanaka. Nobody made a sound as they turned to face Hinata at the back of the room. For every second of silence, the tension doubled—like when someone's about to pop a balloon, but won't tell you when. 

Hinata—face blank, eyes unfocused—turned slowly in Tsukki's direction. Yamaguchi was the only thing between them.

“Tsukishima,” Hinata whispered, so as to barely disturb the delicate air.

One heartbeat.

Two.

_Three_ .

And then Tsukki made the noise that sparked a war.

“Heh,” he said with a tiny smile.

“I'LL KILL YOU!” Hinata screeched, and he lunged for Tsukki.

The powder-keg was lit. Howls of laughter erupted from everyone in the room—even Tadashi. He managed to catch Hinata around the waist to stop him reaching Tsukki, and clung on as best he could through his paralysing laughter. Hinata was like a wriggling, barking dog trying to break out of his grip. Nishinoya and Tanaka sounded like they were in genuine pain as they watched the struggle. Tsukki stood up, arms folded, and pushed his glasses closer to his face.

“We keep begging you to study,” he said.

Tadashi clung to Hinata on the store floor. The chaos, the noise, the struggle, the laughter—there was no point trying to keep himself under control any more. The tears that had been so desperate to escape finally freed themselves. Tears of happiness and pride and laughter and contentment and relief—so many ingredients went into those little drops of salty water.

The most potent tears he'd ever cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!
> 
> Next up, ARC 3: SHOWDOWN AT THE JOZENJI STREET JAZZ FESTIVAL


	15. Part Three: Don't Think About It, Tadashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here begins PART THREE: SHOWDOWN AT THE JOZENJI STREET JAZZ FESTIVAL.

Tadashi had never kissed anyone before.

Not for passion, anyway.

He'd seen it done. He'd read about kisses and kissing. Seen movies and TV shows filled with lusty make-outs. Watched videos on the internet when nobody was looking. On mute, of course. He'd  _imagined_ doing it a bunch of times. Mostly with Tsukki. A couple of times with Oikawa, because...pretty. And then this one weird time with Tanaka.

But he'd never actually  _done_ it.

Which is why he was terrified to walk into Torono Town Park.

It was about four blocks from  his house, and every fourth Saturday it was the site of the Torono Town Film and Culture Fete. In his near-sixteen years alive, Tadashi had never been to it. Not once. It wasn't that he wasn't interested or curious to go. It's just that the fete had a reputation.

It was the place you took your first date.

And the place where you had your first kiss.

It wouldn't make any sense to someone from outside, but around Karasuno high school the phrase 'do you want to go to the fete with me?' meant the same thing as 'will you go out with me?'. There was no way to go there—as a teenager, in Torono Town, with another teenager—without the romantic baggage attached to it.

And so, Tadashi had never been to the fete.

Not until today.

This queasy, nauseous, shivering day.

_Just don't think about it, Tadashi_ , he told himself.  _Don't think about kissing_ .

“Guchi- _chan_!” Taiga's voice hit him just before he felt two hands grab hold of his shoulders. Tadashi flailed his arms to keep balanced as Taiga leapt onto his back.

“Aghh!” he said. “Where did you come from?”

“Someone said there was this cute guy hanging around the fete, so I ran all the way here,” Taiga said, chin resting on Tadashi's shoulder. 

“Oh, him. Yeah, I chased him off,” Tadashi said, tilting his head back to try and see his boyfriend. “You're stuck with me.”

Taiga let go, and slid around to Tadashi's front side.

“You're getting better at rolling with my stupid jokes,” Taiga said, grinning. He stuck his thumb over his shoulder and pointed to the backpack strapped to him. “And look! I'm getting better at thinking ahead. I brought us a blanket to sit on and an umbrella in case it rains.”

“Look at this,” Tadashi said, flicking his finger between them. “Look how good we are for each other.”

Taiga punched him gently on the shoulder and Tadashi flinched away, laughing. At the same time, he tried his best to keep his flip-flopping, somersaulting guts from bringing up his lunch.

Taiga looked beautiful. As usual. It was right on the cusp between afternoon and evening, and the way the sun made him glow warm-orange was incredible. He was wearing another of his endless oversized tank tops. A Rolling Stones tank, to be exact. Complete with a big pair of lips and a giant red tongue sticking through them.

Tadashi curled his toes and bit the inside of his cheek.

_Don't think about kissing_ .

The park gates were only a few steps away.

“I can't believe I'm going to the fete,” he said.

“I know,” Taiga said. “I feel like we should get badges for it or something.”

He felt giddy as they walked inside. Like he'd finally met the entry requirements. Like he'd been waiting in reserve for the entire game, and was just now called up to play. He stuck close to Taiga like he was the entry ticket, and at the same time did his best to make it look casual.

_Just_ in case he was spotted.

He'd already gone through the worst-case scenarios in his head. His parents were both at home—they thought he was at Tsukki's place—and so he couldn't possibly run in to them. Adults and tourists didn't know about the fete's first date reputation. They might run in to another couple having  _their_ first date, but the chances were low. Not quite win-the-lottery low, but definitely finding-a-four-leaf-clover low. At  _least_ that. Maybe five-leaf-clover low.

And even  _if_ he lucked out on that clover , he always had the Yamaguchi Grin and a really powerful 'clueless' card to play. People always believed him when he acted naive. Something about his face really sold it, especially when he played up how embarrassed he was.  _Oh, it's just Yamaguchi,_ they'd think. Lost or confused or flustered again. Don't make it worse for the poor guy _._

Taiga smiled at him.

“Are you worried?”

“A bit,” he said, though he returned the smile. “But not, at the same time.”

“Let me know if you want me to move away, or—”

“No, no,” Tadashi said, and took a deliberate step closer so their shoulders touched. “There's good.”

The beauty of the fete as a first date was that it practically ran on rails. It was a paint-by-numbers date. A template made up for you to fill the gaps—a partner, the conversation, the laughs. At first Tadashi  worried it was unoriginal, but it  _was_ tradition. Original dates were for people who knew what they were doing. Who'd been on tons of dates and knew the rules. It was kind of like cooking: do it long enough and you can go off-book, but beginners should probably follow the recipe.

So the schedule was set. Everyone of dating age at Karasuno knew it by heart. Until the sun went down, there were food stalls. You buy your dinner and drinks, then pick out a spot on the steep grassy hill to eat together. Once it was dark enough, this month's movie was projected against the blank white wall of the park's gazebo. You watched the movie. You held hands.

And you had your first kiss.

Tadashi clenched the fist furthest from Taiga.

_Don't think about it. Stop thinking about it. Just relax. RELAX RIGHT NOW YOU DUMB FRECKLED IDIOT._

“Whoa, where's the smoke coming from?” Tagia said, waving his hand in front of his face. Tadashi saw it in the air and took a deep sniff. It was heavy and sweet, but charred at the same time.

“I don't know,” he said. “But it smells amazing.”

“Totally,” Taiga said. “I think I _need_ whatever's making that smoke.”

“Me too. Definitely need.”

“Then let's do the opposite of what they say to do,” Taiga said. “And run _towards_ the fire.”

“My nose says this way,” Tadashi nodded to the furthest row of stalls. They hurried over and found a long queue trying to push its way to the source of the smokey smell. The stall sold chargrilled pork belly on a stick with a choice of glaze, two for ¥800. 

“That chilli banana glaze sounds awesome,” Tadashi said. They were almost at the front of the line, so he fished in his pocket for the thousand yen he'd borrowed from his parents. 

“No, no,” Taiga said, and he yanked out his wallet. “I've got this. I spent the day busking with stage band over at the train station.”

And he pulled out a ¥2000 yen note.

“No, no,” Tadashi said. “Come on, I've got—”

Taiga folded his arms.

“Not negotiable. This is my first official 'boyfriend' act,” he said. Just as Tadashi was setting himself to argue back, Taiga held up a finger. “Keep in mind I sang my heart out so I could buy dinner tonight. I literally sang for our supper, and refusing my gesture would be a total jerk move. _If_ you were thinking of doing that.”

Tadashi  _so_ wanted to refuse, but his hands were tied.

Instead, he shoved the thousand yen deep into his pocket and resolved to try and slip it to Taiga at some point during the night. For now he pushed his hands together into a little steeple and bowed his head.

“I humbly accept,” he said in his most over the top voice.

They ordered and collected their food, and Tadashi held on to it while Taiga picked out a place to sit and laid out the blanket. By the time they sat down, the smell of the glazed pork was having a loud conversation with Tadashi's stomach.

They each ripped the first bite from the skewer.

“Amazing,” Taiga said. “And messy.”

He had glaze all around his mouth already, and Tadashi could feel it collecting on his upper lip, too. He didn't care, though—it was too delicious to worry about that just now.

“I didn't know you busked,” he said. “How long have you been busking?”

“Oh, not long really,” Taiga said. “It's just me and a few people from stage band. We're trying to raise some money for the school.”

“Raise money?” Tadashi said around his mouthful. “For what?”

“Ah, they're trying to shut stage band down,” Taiga said. “Or merge it with general music club, which is the same thing. There's just not enough money for both, so we're trying to _get_ money for both.”

“Oh wow,” Tadashi said. “How much do you need?”

“Well...” Taiga trailed off, nodding his head side to side as he thought about it. “Between new instruments, a slush fund for travel, that kind of stuff...maybe half a million yen?”

Tadashi nearly spat out his dinner.

“That's...a lot.”

“It is,” Taiga said. “I don't really see how we'll do it. It's already August and we've got till the end of November. So far we've raised a grand total of forty-eight thousand in about a month. Not even ten percent of what we need.”

Tadashi stared at the skewer in his hands and the taste of it soured a little.

“You made my dinner money busking, though. So...you could have raised fifty already?”

Taiga shook his head and picked up his second skewer, wrapping the first up in a serviette.

“Nah, there's three of us, and we each take a share. I mean, it's not like this is an official fundraiser. We're doing it ourselves, so that money's all ours. We pay ourselves twenty-five hundred for four hours work. It's nothing.”

“Oh,” Tadashi said. “Okay. As long as I'm not eating the future of the stage band or anything.”

Taiga laughed.

“Bought with the hopes and dreams of thirty promising musicians!” Taiga said. 

And then Tadashi saw something he'd never seen before.

Taiga's smile weakened just a bit. It was still  _there_ , but it was the closest Tadashi had ever seen to 'forced'. He knew Taiga's smile, and this wasn't it. 

“Nah, it's fine,” Taiga said. “Besides, like I say, I really don't think we'll hit the target anyway. We'll try, but...”

Then Taiga sniffed in a breath, and went right back to normal.

But it was too late.

Tadashi had already seen it. A tiny, tiny little crack in Taiga's rock-solid, sun-shiney outer shell. Once, when he was a kid, his mother had told him something he'd hung on to ever since. To really know how someone's feeling, she said, you need to be on the lookout for the little bits that leak out. The things that accidentally escape in those moments when a person blinks, and isn't watching as their real selves peek out of hiding.

It's about the only way he ever knew what Tsukki was feeling. Usually wrapped up in a suit of cold iron armor, he had to keep a keen eye out for the tiny hints that bled out through the seams. He'd gotten really good at it. Just like learning a language, he'd practiced it enough that he could now speak and read these subtle clues like they were words on a page.

No doubt about it. That's what he'd just seen with Taiga.

His back stiffened, and his chest felt like it was swelling to twice its size. He knew at once what this meant:

Even if he had to tear this town apart; even if he had to move a mountain one rock at a time; even if he had to carry all of Japan on his back from one side of the globe to the other; even if he had to hitch a rope around the earth and haul on it until it stopped spinning...

He would make sure Taiga got anything he wanted.

A half million yen. A million. More.

_Anything_ .

“Holy crap, these things were sticky!” Taiga said, and he held up his fingers. They were covered in glaze, even after he'd gone over them with every inch of the tiny white napkin he had left. “I'm covered with it still.”

Tadashi still had both of his napkins, and he handed one to Taiga.

“Here,” he said, and Taiga wiped the rest of it off his hands. They were fairly clean now, but there was still glaze at the edges of his lips. Tadashi finished the last of his pork and wiped the edges of his mouth—he'd fared much better with his hands, which were mostly dry.

He smirked at Taiga, and pointed to his own lips.

“You've still got some,” he said.

“Ahhh, really?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “Here.”

He folded his own used napkin in half so there were two clean sides, and leaned forward. At first, his nerves hadn't quite caught up with him. He shuffled closer to Taiga's side and pressed the napkin against his cheek, making sure to catch all the glaze in a single stroke. As his fingers pressed into Taiga's skin, and his knuckle brushed the tip of his nose, and the napkin ran along his bottom lip, though—

His heart went from resting to extreme cardio in a second flat.

He tried not to let it show on his face as he moved to the other side of Taiga's mouth and brushed the glaze away from there, too. Taiga closed his eyes and pushed his face into Tadashi's hand as it cleaned him up.

“ _My_ first official 'boyfriend' act,” Tadashi said, and hoped his voice wasn't shaking.

Taiga couldn't answer because there was a napkin across his mouth, but he laughed, and Tadashi felt it vibrate through the tips of his fingers. He let his thumb rest on Taiga's chin—bare skin on bare skin—and wiped Taiga's lips again. So soft.  _So warm_ . Then he went back and did it again. Then once more just because.

_Don't think about kissing. Don't. STOP. STOP IT._

When he was done, he shuffled back to his original spot. His heart was going a thousand miles an hour. His head was swimming with a weird kind of mental pins-and-needles. He was sure his cheeks were flushed bright red. And, most embarrassing of all, he could feel a warm, rising feeling straining against the inside of his jeans.

“All clean,” he said, grinning like an idiot.

“Please ignore this total slob moment,” Taiga said, rubbing at his lips to make sure they were clean and dry. “He said with class, on his first date.”

“I don't think pork skewers count,” Tadashi said. “They're impossible to eat without spilling.”

“Have you ever had an Australian meat pie?”

“No.”

“Same deal,” Taiga said. “Some friends I made down there could do it easy, but I always wound up with gravy and mince meat down my shirt.”

“Shirt?”

“...yes?”

“Not tank top?”

Taiga threw his dirty napkin at Tadashi.

“I _do_ own other kinds of clothes,” he said. “It's summer!”

And they talked and laughed, just like that, for an hour. A really easy hour that was like all the times they'd ever gone to their Karaage stand, and chatted in the park, and gone to practice serving behind Shimada Mart. It was relaxing, easy, and comfortable. The kinds of things you wanted a first date to be. Even better—Tadashi didn't think about kissing  _once_ .

Not until the sun finally went down.

And the park was lit only by low-level ground lights, and the glow of the projector screen.

And it was time to lie back on the blanket.

In the dark.

Right next to one another.

_Oh for chrissakes Tadashi just don't think about it_ .

But it was no good.

He couldn't even remember what movie was playing. He couldn't recite one line of dialogue so far. All he could do was lie back, his head lulled to the side, and obsess over just how  _few_ centimeters separated them both.

Barely any.

His head was buzzing as he recited the order of events on the Torono Town Film Fete First Date list™. Food, check. Laughter, check. Movie, check.

Hold hands.

First kiss.

First. Kiss.

First—

He felt a tickle on the edge of his right hand.

Then a brushing sensation.

Then felt Taiga's hand crawl on top of his, and their fingers knitted together like the teeth on a zipper. Tadashi squeezed it, and Taiga squeezed back, and his heart started thumping. It was loud.  _So_ loud he was sure Taiga would be able to hear it over the movie. Or never mind that—he'd be able to  _feel_ it pounding through the veins in his hand and wrist.

Tadashi looked down at their hands. Taiga's long, warm fingers disappeared behind his.

He took a breath, and finally admitted it to himself.

He couldn't  _not_ think about it any more.

He didn't  _want_ to not think about it any more.

He dug his heels into the ground, and scooched over a few inches. A second later, he felt Taiga do the same. They were touching, now. Their legs pressed against one another. Entangled hands sandwiched between their hips.

And Taiga rested his head on Tadashi's shoulder.

Tadashi felt like he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

_Don't THINK about it, idiot! Just do it!_

Tadashi tilted his head so it rested against Taiga's.

Taiga angled his chin up.

Tadashi sloped his down.

They were looking right at one another. Centimetres away.

Centi _meter_ away.

And then, like some kind of inexplicable miracle, Tadashi stopped thinking about it.

He pushed forward. Taiga did, too.

And they kissed.

It wasn't a long kiss. It might not even have been all that good. Tadashi had no way of knowing for sure. But it was his first, and as far as he was concerned, it was the single greatest kiss in the history of Torono Town Fete, in all of Japanese history, in all the  _world's_ history, and since the creation of the universe all those billions of years ago.

Taiga tasted like chilli and banana glaze.

His lips were  _so_ much softer than they'd felt under the napkin.

The way he took a sharp, but  _tiny_ breath in through his nose while they were joined together was so beautiful it made Tadashi want to cry. The little wet snapping noise their lips made as they broke apart was the single  _hottest goddamn sound_ he'd ever heard in his life. So quiet, but so close it was deafening.

And then Taiga smiled at him, and he smiled back.

If he could've stayed there forever, he would. He thought about what he'd say to Tsukki, and his parents, and the volleyball club. How this must come as a shock, but he's decided to stay on the side of a hill forever. Eating pork skewers and ignoring movies with a boy draped over him, kissing for eternity. Good luck with whatever not-as-good thing they'll be doing for the rest of their lives.

That morning, Tadashi had never been kissed.

By the time the movie was over, he'd had his first.

And second. And third. And however many kisses fit between the opening and closing credits of...whatever the hell movie that was. There in the dark, underneath the stars, without a single thought given to being caught or spotted or outed. All that mattered was each other.

Boyfriends. They were boyfriends who kiss each other. Like it's nothing! Like it's just a normal thing you do. Like it's something you're allowed to do, and don't have to be ashamed of. Like it's something you  _deserve_ . 

Something you don't even have to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public health announcement: RUN for your insulin boosters right now, because I used lethal amounts of sugary sweetness for this update.
> 
> BIG THANKS again to everyone who's been reading and commenting and sharing and kudosing! Can you believe we're up to part 3??


	16. Showdown at the Jozenji Street Jazz Festival

Tadashi started with the obvious.

 

_How to make 500,000 yen fast_

 

The search engine turned up plenty of results. More than he'd ever be able to read. The top links, though—the ones google thought would be the absolute  _most_ helpful—promised he'd be able to do it in just three clicks. Obviously scams. The ones beneath that were links to videos. 'Easily make 500k yen in a week!' said one guy. Though he seemed to have filmed it in the back seat of a very, very old car and was wearing socks over his hands. Probably safe to judge that book by its cover.

He found some links to some 'ask/answer' websites next, and the suggestions got a little better. Beg from friends or family—more realistic, but still out of the question. Sell some of your stuff on eBay—maybe, but he had nothing worth anywhere near a half million yen. Take out a personal loan from the bank—impossible for a fifteen year old.  _Rob_ the bank—ludicrous. Grow and sell drugs—he wouldn't know where to start. Also: illegal.

He almost gave up hope when he somehow landed on a very serious discussion on the pros-and-cons of selling  _yourself_ on the street. But then, finally, after pages of more and more ridiculous ideas, he found something he could work with.

A comment left by someone three years ago, with no rating or little 'thumbs up' or anything.

 

_What are you good at? Use it. Make something and sell it. Perform. See if there are any competitions or contests you can win with your skill. It's the only way to make money out of nothing._

 

Taiga was already busking for money, but...

Tadashi searched for music festivals, band competitions, talent shows and quests—anything in Miyagi that might pay for a bunch of great musicians to put on a show. And after sifting through a dozen or more dud entries, he finally found what he was looking for.

 

_SHOWDOWN AT THE JOZENJI STREET JAZZ FESTIVAL_

 

He clicked through.

Every September in Sendai, musicians from around the country set up on the city streets to play for tourists and locals. It was a pretty big event. Tadashi had even been to it a few years ago with his family. The slogan for the whole thing was 'Anything can happen at the Jozenji Street Jazz Festival!', and at the time he believed it. The atmosphere was electric and unpredictable—bands on every corner, stages in every park. A musician in every restaurant, every alleyway, up every tree and behind every trash can.

And, of course, there were competitions.

This year, the biggest one was THE SHOWDOWN.

Prize money: one million yen.

Runner up: three hundred thousand.

Tadashi's eyebrows shot up as he read the numbers. One million yen? They could save stage band and form  _another_ stage band for that. He leaned in close as he scrolled down and read the details.

The theme of the contest was 'Laugh or Cry'. The idea being the host flips a coin—laughing face on one side, crying face on the other. Whichever emotion lands face-up, that's what the band must make the judges feel. Make them laugh, or make them cry.

His mind snapped back to the very first time he'd met Taiga. Hidden behind a piano in an empty music room, cowering from the world. He couldn't even see Taiga then, and had no way of knowing who he was. All he knew was the music and the voice.

Sweet and sad enough to make him messy-cry in his hiding spot. Soaring and funny enough to make him laugh like he'd never been upset in his life. All in the space of a few minutes.

Tadashi slumped backward in his chair.

This was it.

Not just a decent way to make the money Taiga needed—the  _perfect_ way to do it. He didn't much believe in fate or anything like that, but right then he felt like he'd stumbled on an ancient prophecy Taiga was destined to fulfill. Except instead of scrawled on an old stone wall in a murky crypt somewhere, it was right here on j-streetjazz.com. 

A prophecy for the new millennium.

He reached for his phone to text Taiga and tell him all about it, but stopped himself. It was almost one a.m, and his wide-open yawning felt like it was tearing the corners of his mouth. Tadashi was going to watch the stage band busk tomorrow, and there was no reason to wake Taiga in the middle of the night. This was destiny, after all. Destiny would wait until he'd had a good night's sleep.

He printed off the information pack on the festival website and a couple of entry forms—the printer  _clacked_ and  _banged_ its way through the job like it was letting off fireworks—and hit the back button on his browser until he was at the home page.

Then stopped.

Something caught his eye a few pages back.

A name.

A name he really, really didn't like.

_No way_ , he thought.  _There's just no way_ .

He hit forward a couple of times. Slowly, like he was inching toward a bomb that was about to go off. Each page taking him closer to a ball of fire and rage.

And then he saw it again.

Under the sponsored links section when he'd been searching for events in Sendai. Google must have looked at his browsing history and thrown up a few helpful suggestions for things he might be interested in. One of those was a link to a video made by the Sendai LGBT Resource Center.

Starring Oikawa Tooru.

His shoulders drooped, and he took a slow look around his bedroom just to make sure nobody was playing a hidden camera joke on him. Then, when he was certain he actually  _was_ alone, and this really  _was_ real life, he let go of a long, vicious sigh.

He hadn't thought about Oikawa in the week since the exhibition match ended. He'd been busy with happier things, like kissing a boy and arranging the next time he could kiss that boy again. Between the kissing schedule and the volleyball practice schedule, he'd barely had time for homework and study, let alone Oikawa.

Now this.

Could Oikawa  _sense_ when Tadashi hadn't been thinking about him? Was that it? A little red warning light started flashing in Oikawa's house? Alert! You aren't the center of Tadashi's universe anymore! 

_Oh my, you're right! Tadashi hasn't seen my face in a week! He must miss me terribly._

That must be it. His attention deficit alarm went off and, like a needy super hero, he sprang into action. To the Oikawamobile! He went down to the LGBT center in Sendai. Asked to work with them for the sole purpose of getting into Tadashi's 'suggested for you' search results. Shot a video about the place so could wink down the internet and remind Tadashi there was nowhere to hide.

_There, there, Tadashi. It's okay. I'll never leave you alone. Ever, ever, EVER._

Or something along those lines, anyway. Either that, or this was all part of his grand plan to turn coming out into a get rich quick scheme. Tadashi clenched his teeth as the rage from the exhibition match flooded through him like he was re-living it.

Honestly, he preferred the super hero explanation.

He didn't want to watch the video. He didn't want to hear Oikawa speak. But there was a press release that went with it and he  _was_ curious, so he clicked that. 

He got through the first paragraph about Oikawa working in the Sendai LGBT centre for the next three months. He barely made it through the next one about how he was there to offer support to young people, particularly those involved in high school sports. His stomach started to churn when he got to the third paragraph, which was filled with quotes from the staff about what a helpful and upstanding guy Oikawa was.

Tadashi shoved his keyboard away and closed the browser.

Another sigh hissed out of him, and this time his tongue hovered on the letter 'f' . He let it go for as long as he had air in his lungs.

“Ffffffffffffff _raud_ ,” he finished the word.

It was too late in the night—early in the morning—to be getting worked up over Oikawa. He was  _done_ with Oikawa. He had Taiga now. He was doing well in school. He was even nailing a great average on his jump-floater serves at club practice and improving his receives.

He pushed Oikawa away.

The guy belonged to a bygone era. A bygone era of a whole  _week_ ago.

He crawled over to his bed and flopped down on top of the covers, burying his face in the pillow. His eyes were twitching from so much screen time tonight, and an ache pulsed through his temples like it was punishment for every second he stayed awake.

He shifted his head to the side, closed his eyes, and blew out a deep breath.

No more Oikawa.

Things were different now.

 

***

 

“Showdown at the Jozenji Street Jazz Festival,” Taiga said as he read the entry form.

Tadashi had a madcap grin on his face, hands on his hips and chest puffed out like the proudest peacock that ever lived. He'd strolled into the train station that morning clutching the entry forms like they were as valuable as the million yen prize itself.

There were two other members of stage band busking today, and Tadashi recognized them both from the exhibition match.

Kagame was a husky guy with a light, wispy beard and a bowler hat. He played a five string bass guitar with a sticker across the front that said 'Down With This Sort Of Thing'. Tadashi didn't understand it.

Kiyoshi was a very tall, very wiry girl who had a smile like a shark. Short-cropped yellow hair led to a long rats tail at the top of her neck, and she'd hand-drawn tattoos up her arms with blue ballpoint pen. She was the drummer. Of  _course_ she was a drummer.

Once the band were finished with their set, he'd stepped forward and announced he had good news. He imagined himself bathed in yellow light. A miracle worker, fresh off feeding everyone in the station with nothing but two sticks of Karaage and a tub of ice cream. He handed over the forms, folded his arms, and waited.

After a second or two, Taiga smirked.

“This could be fun,” he said.

“Hell, I'm in,” Kiyoshi said.

“Yeah,” Kagame said. “Whatever. Sounds good.”

Taiga had warned Tadashi about Kagame. He didn't like much apart from bass guitar, video games and full-strength energy drinks. Now they were face-to-face, Tadashi could see that. Kagame's face seemed to be permanently set into a sagging frown.

“There's an entry fee,” Tadashi said, reaching out to point at the bottom of the form. “Five thousand yen. The only drawback.”

Taiga snorted, and looked to Kiyoshi.

“How much did we make today?”

“After the busking fees and our cut?” Kiyoshi yanked the wad of cash from her pocket and shuffled through the notes and change. “Close enough to exactly five thousand.”

“We can take half from my cut today,” Taiga said. “I don't mind.”

“Nah, screw that,” Kiyoshi said. Tadashi was mesmerized by her voice. It was rough and deep and scratchy, like she'd spent the morning gargling sea water and sand. The complete opposite to Taiga. “We'll use the fundraiser money. Decent gamble for a million yen, I say.”

“Yeah,” Kagame said.

Tadashi smiled.

Kagame had a voice as soft and wispy as the fluff on his face. The kind of voice that only spoke when it had to.

“And,” Tadashi said, pointing to another section of the form, “you need to submit an audition video. But I've listened to some of the ones who were accepted last year, and you guys are way better than them.”

Kiyoshi winked at him.

“I like him, Nish,” she said, and it took Tadashi a second to figure out she was talking to Taiga. He went by 'Nish', short for Nishinoya, with the stage band. “He has good taste.”

Tadashi blushed.

“I just have ears,” he said.

Kiyoshi laughed—a sharp, staccato  _bark—_ and held both thumbs up at chest level. 

“Too cute,” she said.

She was definitely the theatrical sort.

“We've never done a video before,” Taiga said. “My parents are away for a couple of weeks, so we can shoot it at my place. I don't have a camera, though.”

“You've got a phone, don't you?” Kiyoshi said.

“Yeah, but it's rubbish for recording.”

Tadashi yanked his from his pocket.

“Mine's pretty good,” he said, and he handed it over for inspection. 

It was brand new when he got it for his birthday at the end of last year, and—by some miracle—was still top-of-the-line ten months later. It took better picture and video than his family's year-old digital camera.

Kagame craned his neck, suddenly interested.

“Looks good,” he said. 

“Awesome,” Taiga said, handing the phone back. “You just volunteered to be cameraman.”

“A job that suits my musical talents,” he said.

“So,” Kiyoshi said. “Are we doing this? Pick a song, film it, pay the entry fee...win a million yen?”

“Sounds good,” Kagame said. “Yeah.”

Tadashi bit his lip and tried not to laugh. Kagame had what Tsukki would call a  _restricted_ vocabulary. 'Yeah' was the word off which everything else hung, and 'everything else' seemed to solely consist of whether or not something looked or sounded good. A two-tier system.

“Settled, then,” Taiga said, folding the form up and sticking it in his pants pocket. “Tomorrow after school and club practice. Everyone come to my place, we'll get this thing filmed and sent away. And you—”

He stuck an arm out, pointed directly at Tadashi's nose. Then he took a few steps forward, hooked his elbow around Tadashi's shoulders, and jumped up on to his back. Tadashi was ready for it—Taiga had been doing it all week. Said he just really, really liked climbing on Tadashi.

He rested his chin on Tadashi's shoulder, right near his left ear.

“Thanks,” he said, and Tadashi could hear his smile. “I don't know why I didn't think of this before, but it's perfect. And you're perfect. This is all perfect.”

Tadashi didn't speak. He just tilted his head sideways a little and nuzzled the side of Taiga's head. Taiga did it back, and the spongey, soft feeling of their hair mashing together sent tingles through Tadashi's entire body.

“Hey,” Kiyoshi said. “Not to interrupt, but are you gonna hang there like a backpack all day, Nish? We need to clear our gear away.”

“Yeah,” Kagame grunted.

“Okay, okay,” Taiga said, dropping to the ground.

He walked to Tadashi's front and leaned in, speaking softly.

“And hey, uh, feel free to say no or whatever. But once we're done shooting the video tomorrow—and since my folks are out of town for a while—you're more than welcome to stay for dinner. Or a movie. Or … you know. Whatever.”

“Oh?” Tadashi said.

Then his brain caught up with the conversation. He saw the nervous-but-cheeky look on Taiga's face. He picked the key words out of the last few sentences—'folks', 'out of town', 'stay', 'whatever'. He remembered how he and Taiga kissed now. Kissed just as an activity, like going for a hike or … knitting or something.

“Oh!” he said, and his cheeks went red.

“You can say no,” Tagia hurried to add.

“No, no,” Tadashi said, then winced. “I mean not 'no', just no to me _saying_ no. I mean—”

“Tadashi,” Taiga said, gripping his arm. “Slow breaths.”

Tadashi shook his head.

“I'll ask my parents,” he said. “See if they're happy for me to be out late. They won't mind if I tell them I'm at Tsukkis, or at a late practice or something.”

Taiga smirked at him.

“Okay, then.”

“Okay,” Tadashi agreed.

“Okay,” Taiga said again, the smirk getting bigger. “Let me just go tidy up over here, and the rest of the day is ours.”

Tadashi watched him go, feet rooted to the spot.

Come over tomorrow.

My folks are out of town.

Whatever.

“Okay,” Tadashi said to no-one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plans are afoot! Last chapter was TECHNICALLY the start of part 3, but this is where it kicks off in earnest. I know this one was a bit of a transitional chapter where not a great deal of excitement happens, but that definitely tips in the next one! It's called SINGING LESSONS and it's one of my favourite ideas of the whole story, lol.
> 
> Speaking of which! GUYS I'M OFF TO NEW YORK for 2 weeks! I'm going to be on a plane a lot so I'll still do a lot of writing, but there might not be an update to OUT for the next 2-3 weeks or so. My sincerest apologies if the update is delayed, or if it takes me a while to get back to your comments. I definitely, definitely will though :-D Woo Woo! New York!


	17. Lie, Tadashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! From the Big Apple! So forgive me if I've typed this entire chapter in a thick Noo Yawk accent, okay? I can't tell you how great it is to be back with everyone here :D I hope you enjoy as we lurch back into gear!

Tadashi wasn't sure what to bring to a video shoot, so he settled on bringing everything. He grabbed a wall charger and an extra-long cable to keep his phone charged, just in case they wanted more takes than his battery could handle. He found a great free app that would let him review and edit footage on the fly, because musicians were probably perfectionists who yell 'CUT!' after the tiniest mistake. He even brought a strong flashlight in case the lighting was bad, and a little bag of snacks in case anyone got hungry.

After practice that afternoon, he spent half an hour preparing his Film Clip Survival Kit. All the while, his head was swimming with weird creative energy. He arrived at Taiga's place ready for hours of stopping and starting, creative arguments and musical experiments. Endless discussion about arrangements and melody and the ins-and-outs of time signatures or...something. Kyoshi seemed like the type who had strong opinions about tempo, and would back those opinions up with her fists.

It'd be just like one of those documentaries about great rock bands. Shouting and laughing and arguing and  _maybe_ , if they had time, some music.

He couldn't stop grinning at the thought.

It was 7:40pm when the band began setting up in Taiga's living room, and Tadashi carefully laid out the survival kit on a close-by table.

It was 7:52pm when the band finished their first take and called it a night.

Twelve minutes, start to finish.

Tadashi's face fell.

“Is that it?” he said as Kyoshi and Kagame stuffed their instruments into enormous carry bags.

“What?” Kyoshi said. “You didn't like it?”

“No, no, it was great!” Tadashi said. “It's just...I brought all these snacks, and—”

“We're definitely a one-take kind of band,” Taiga said.

“Yeah,” Kagame said.

They were almost totally packed up now, gathering their things like they were rushing to catch a train. It was like someone had set off an evacuation alarm that only Kyoshi and Kagame could hear.

Kyoshi caught him looking at her and grinned.

A hunter with deer in her sights.

“Besides,” she said. “I think Nish's exact words were _we do this in one take, and then both of you get out—_ ”

“ _Kyoshi_ ,” Taiga said, lunging for her.

She ducked out of his reach, her small drum kit clanging together in the bag as she lurched sideways.

“— _so I can take my time ravishing Tadashi on a pile of delicate rose petals—_ ”

She was almost at the door as Taiga jumped for her again, knocking over a chair as she scrambled to escape his furious hands.

“— _and ruffled pillows._ Over _and_ over _and—_ MMPH!”

Taiga finally managed to clamp a hand over her mouth.

“ _Actually_ going to kill you!” Taiga said.

Her whole body shook as she laughed her way out of his grip and yanked the front door open. She blew a kiss to Tadashi, strolled outside, and called back over her shoulder.

“Have a good night, you two!”

Taiga slammed the door behind her and turned back to Tadashi, cheeks bright red.

“I...obviously didn't say any of that.”

Kagame shouldered his way past, bass slung across his back.

“Did too,” he said. “Night.”

When the door closed again they were alone, and spoke only in the blush tones on their faces. Tadashi moved closer. He wanted to be the first to speak—to let Taiga know it was fine, he understands what it's like to have over-the-top friends. He couldn't quite get the words out, though.

“So, that's my band,” Taiga said. “They're assholes.”

“No, they're funny!”

“Funny assholes,” Taiga said. “I really, really didn't say those things.”

“It didn't sound like you,” Tadashi said, and shrugged. “Though, I mean, it's not like I'd care if you did.”

“Oh?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean...that's not something to be mad about, right?”

“Right,” Taiga said. “No, I agree.”

“I could...I mean...”

“Yeah, I know,” Taiga said. “I know...what you mean.”

“Yeah.”

They each got a little more lost whenever they tried to speak. Tadashi wasn't thinking right. The silences in between their words seemed to be filled with those kinds of feelings that balance on a thin edge, ready to tip over with the slightest push. Everything was all excitement and fear. Tadashi  _did_ want to be ravished. He didn't want to  _seem_ like he wanted to be ravished. He was terrified to be ravished. He was terrified Taiga might not  _want_ to ravish him.

What did 'ravish' even mean? Did it really involve ruffled pillows? He couldn't see any ruffled pillows—

“Should I even ask if you want dinner?” Taiga said. “Or can you not stop thinking about the word 'ravishing' now? Because it's kind of going around and around in my head.”

“You're reading my mind,” Tadashi said, slumping. “What... _is_ ravishing, anyway?”

Taiga stepped forward so they were only the width of the front door apart. It was close enough to feel a temperature difference in the air.

“I don't know,” he said, and he lay a hand right over Tadashi's thumping heart. “I guess we just...find out?”

There was a tiny little clerical voice in Tadashi's head that wasn't satisfied with that answer. A small, bean-counting, bureaucratic thing that wanted a concrete definition so he knew exactly what to expect.

That voice was drowned—like a cricket chirping into a jet engine—by the way his whole body felt like it would catch fire if he didn't kiss Taiga  _right now_ .

So he did.

He kissed Taiga right then. And kept kissing him all the way across the room, over to the couch, down on to the rug next to the couch. It was a different kind of kissing to that first night at the park. They were more practiced now. Like a well-rehearsed band, they'd gotten used to each other's rhythm. There was more heat. More force. More movement.

Tadashi ran his hand across Taiga's back, up and down, the material of his top bunching a lifting a little further each time. And then, like an explosion on his fingertips, he touched hot, bare skin. The surge that ran through him made him shiver.

Taiga felt it, too, and took it as a signal. Before Tadashi really knew what was what, Taiga's palm was underneath his school shirt. It snaked its way up his belly—it tickled!--and onto his chest. Taiga's other hand danced over the shirt buttons and soon it was open, slipping down his shoulders, over his elbows, being tossed to the side. Whatever 'ravishing' was, shirts weren't involved.

Tadashi's hands got bolder. He felt the lines of Taiga's hips, the crease up the middle of his belly, his navel, the bumps of his ribs. For the first time, he was forced to think of Taiga and himself as a pair of bodies. He'd stared at his own long enough to know what he liked and what he hated. He was slim all over, but long, too—the few muscles he did have stuck out in the right places to give him some shape.

Would Taiga think so, too? His body felt so  _different_ in Tadashi's hands. His skin was tight—so much tighter than Tadashi's—and was pulled across small, flat muscles that didn't budge to the touch. It was like he was made of warmed-up lego pieces—just tiny seams in a hard, locked-together whole.

Taiga leaned in to him, their bare stomachs hot together, their hips biting in to one another. Tadashi was more than happy with this meaning of 'ravishing'. He wanted Taiga's shirt off. He wanted no obstructions between them anymore. He wanted—

“Oh, shit!” Taiga said, and he pushed himself up.

Tadashi jolted.

“What?”

“Someone's at the—” Taiga started.

But he didn't need to finish. The sound of keys at the front door was accompanied by a voice Tadashi recognized well. The only person he knew who would shout like an excited lunatic through a closed door.

“Little cousin!” Nishinonya's voice boomed through the cracks. “Your babysitter's here!”

Tadashi was on his feet.

The keys were  _in_ the door. It was opening!

He didn't have time to think, or wait for Taiga to speak. He didn't have time to grab his shirt. He just ran. He ran to the first door he could find, yanked it open, and threw himself inside. He found himself on cold tiles, surrounded by sinks and a shower.

Bathroom.

Thank _god_ it wasn't a closet.

He collapsed to the floor, chest heaving like he'd run here from Sendai. There wasn't a lock on the door, so he slid across the floor and leaned against it with his back. The wood was freezing on his skin. He shoved a hand across his mouth and tried to keep his breathing quiet.

Outside, he listened to the night get complicated.

“Yuu!” Taiga said. “What are you doing here?”

“Relax, little cousin,” Nishinoya said. “My parents promised _your_ parents they'd look in on you, remember?  Mom sent me over with some home-made curry. Pork. It's delicious.”

“That's...great,” Taiga said. “Tell her thank you. But you know you dont' need to worry about me.”

“We aren't worried!” Nishinoya said.

And off they went, just chatting like everything was normal. Like one of Noya's half-naked teammates wasn't cowering in the bathroom, shivering on the tiles, _praying_ that it would all be over soon. He listened as Taiga tried his best to steer Nishinoya out the door, and as Nishinoya found excuse after excuse to stay and talk. Still, Tadashi let himself breathe a little easier.

Taiga had it under control. He'd push Nishinoya out as soon as he could, and then they—

“Hey, do you mind if I use the bathroom?” Nishinoya asked.

Tadashi turned to ice.

_No no no!_

“You can't!” Taiga said.

Tadashi grabbed the sides of his head.

Taiga's objection was too loud. Too forceful.

Nishinoya caught it right away.

“Huh?” Nishinoya said. “Why not?”

“Because someone's in there,” Taiga said. “I, ah...have a guest.”

Tadashi felt like he was going to crush his teeth together.

“A guest?” Nishinoya said. “On a school night? Who is it?”

 _Stay calm_ , Tadashi said. _Stay calm. Taiga will think of something._

“It's, ah, just someone who—”

“Wait,” Nishinoya said. “Yamaguchi's here?”

The words were like a freeze-ray, slamming in to Tadashi from the other side of the door and paralyzing him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

“Ya...Yamaguchi?” Taiga said.

“Well, that's his messenger bag isn't it?” Nishinoya said. “And his phone there on the table, too?”

Tadashi's heart hammered back in to action, like it was trying to escape out the bathroom window and leave the rest of his body behind. His _phone_! His bag! Betrayed by his own stuff! A weird stab of rage gushed through him as he quietly cursed them out. Had he not always _loved_ and _cherished_ his phone? How could it do this to him?

“Yeah,” Taiga said.

He had no choice. Tadashi knew it.

They were caught.

“Yeah, he's in the bathroom,” Taiga carried on. “Which is why you can't go in there. Ha.”

“Seriously?” Nishinoya said. “Why's he here? I didn't know you two were friends.”

Tadashi could _hear_ his teeth grinding together.

“Ah, well, he's here for...”

Taiga only paused for a second. In that second, Tadashi ran the entire gauntlet of human emotion. Was this really it? Would this be how he was finally outed to his team mates? Shirtless in a bathroom, caught red-handed after making out with his boyfriend?

Maybe Nishinoya would get it. Maybe he'd understand that Tadashi wasn't quite ready to be the gay one at Karasuno, and keep it quiet. Maybe he'd been through this before with Taiga, and knew how to handle a secret of this size. Maybe—

There wasn't time to wonder at more possibilities.

Taiga had only paused for a second.

And it was all the time he needed to save the day.

“Music lessons,” Taiga said, the words rushing out of him like he'd just beaten the buzzer on a quiz show. “He's here for music lessons.”

Tadashi sighed until there was nothing left in him.

“Oh, right,” Nishionya said.

“Yeah!” Taiga said, and Tadashi could hear the relief in his voice. “He asked me at the exhibition match if I do lessons and I just couldn't say no. I guess I wanted to see how good I'd be as a teacher, you know?”

“Nice,” Nishinoya said. And then, just as Tadashi was considering letting his heartrate fall back to pre-aerobic levels: “I might as well wait and say hello, then!”

Tadashi felt like he was tied to a bungee rope, plunging in to a huge pool of stress only to be yanked back out, then plunged right back in again.

“Oh, he might be a while,” Taiga said. This time, he didn't pause. He must have settled in to the idea of lying on his feet. “He, ah...spilled something on himself. So he's getting changed in there.”

“Oh, right,” Nishinoya said. “Well it can't take that long, right? I might as well hang until he's done. It'd be stupid not to say hi when we're both here.”

“It _would_ , wouldn't it?” Taiga said.

Tadashi bunched his fists in his hair and felt the little strands at the edges pull free. He was literally tearing his hair out.

How could he walk out of here now? Like this?

“I feel bad,” Taiga said, and Tadashi noticed his voice had changed. It was raised now. Like he was trying to shout across the room. “All I had to offer was one of my worn tops from the clothes hamper. The clothes hamper _in the bathroom_.”

Tadashi scrambled to his feet.

Taiga wasn't trying to shout across the room! He was trying to shout _through the door_.

He looked around, from corner to corner, and found a wicker basket hidden beneath the rack of clean towels. He yanked the lid open and dug around inside. He nearly cried when he came up with a purple-and-black _Empire Strikes Back_ singlet.

Would this actually work?

Could Taiga really talk them both out of this?

He slipped the top over his head and fed his arms through the shoulder loops. On Taiga, this top was big and loose. He'd worn it the first time they'd had Karaage in the park, and Tadashi could remember it dangling to halfway down Taiga's chest.

On him, it was snug. Almost skin-tight. He'd seen people wear tank tops like this before—when they were exercising, or trying to show off their muscles during summer. But it wasn't a look he'd ever choose for himself. It really accentuated his long, bony arms and flaring collarbones. The missing sleeves felt like a statement— _look at my biceps!—_ that he couldn't back up.

He forced down a breath, then another, and a bunch more after that. He didn't stop until he felt like he'd be able to speak without throwing up. All the while outside, Taiga and Nishinoya kept talking. He reached for the doorknob. Heard Nishinoya say the word 'Yamaguchi' and snatched his hand away. Reached out again. Gripped the knob...

And he was out, wearing Taiga's tank top and the biggest Yamaguchi Grin he'd ever conjured.

 _Okay, Tadashi_ , he thought. _Time to lie._

“Nishinoya!” he said. “I thought I heard your voice.”

“Yamaguchi!” Nishinoya said. “Funny seeing you here.”

“I'm here for a music lesson,” Tadashi said, rubbing the back of his head. He closed his eyes and cranked the Yamaguchi Grin up another notch. _Way to get straight to the point_ , _idiot!_

“So I hear! But I mean, why?”

“Oh,” Tadashi said. “I just felt like trying something new.”

“No,” Nishinoya said. “I mean why Taiga? Isn't your mother a piano teacher? Couldn't you just get lessons from her?”

Tadashi retreated behind the grin.

 _Oh crap_.

He must have told Nishinoya about his mother before. He couldn't remember doing it, but team conversations in the club room were so long and random that it didn't surprise him.

 _Come on_ , _Tadashi_ , he told himself. _Lie._

“He's not here for piano lessons, Yuu,” Taiga said.

“He's not?”

“No,” Taiga said, and he grinned at Tadashi. “He's here for _singing_ lessons.”

Tadashi froze.

Nishinoya burst out laughing.

“ _Singing_? I've never even heard you raise your voice, Yamaguchi!”

“Yeah!” Tadashi said. “That's why I wanted lessons. I think singing will be good for my confidence.”

Singing lessons. His worst, most anxiety-ridden nightmare.

“It's true,” Taiga said. “If you can sing in front of people, you can do anything.”

“Well, that's great!” Nishinoya said. “I bet you're hiding a good voice in there. What can you sing?”

“Me?” Tadashi said, pointing to himself. “Nothing!”

Taiga stepped forward.

“We're still concentrating on breathing and vocal exercises,” he said. “No singing yet. You can't just dive in if you've never done it before.”

“Oh, cool,” Nishinoya said. “What do those sound like? Vocal exercises?”

“Oh, terrible,” Tadashi said. “Just awful. I'd be too embarrassed to—”

“Come on!” Nishinoya said. “Think of me as a teaching aide. What better way to build your confidence than with an audience? _Especially_ one as supportive as me!”

Tadashi was rooted to the spot as Taiga walked over. He stopped opposite him and lifted an eyebrow. The look on his face said a bunch of things. It said 'I'm sorry for what I'm about to do'. It said 'this is the only way'. It said 'I will make this up to you later'. It said 'I secretly find this really, really funny'.

“Okay, Tadashi,” he said, and he put a hand on his own belly. “From deep in here, remember? Just follow along with me.”

The Yamaguchi Grin felt like it was going to overload and explode.

“Right!” he said.

Taiga took a deep breath.

Tadashi mirrored him.

And...

“HHHMMMmmmmmmmm.”

It sounded like Taiga was trying to think something over _really_ sarcastically. Tadashi kept one eye on Nishinoya, beaming on the couch, as he took a deep breath to join in.

“HHHHMMMmmmmmmm!”

“HHHHMmmmmmmmmm!”

“Hhhhhmmmmmmmm!”

Nishinoya was shaking.

“HUUUMMMMMmmmmm!”

“HUUUMMMMMMmmmm!”

Nishinoya slapped a hand across his mouth.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeemmmmmm!”

“HHHHeeeeeeemmmmm!”

“Hahahah!” Nishinoya couldn't keep it in any longer. Tadashi wanted to sink into the floor. Become water and soak into the soil underneath. “Can I try? It sounds so fun!”

“Yeah, sure,” Taiga said. “Join in. But quit laughing at my student.”

“I'm not laughing at him!” Nishinoya said. “I'm laughing at the sounds. Which are funny.”

So all three of them stood in a triangle and made noises at each other. For what seemed like hours they hummed and hurred and harred and moamed and wahhhed and made all kinds of sounds Tadashi never knew existed. As he got the end of a particularly high-pitched WOOO noise, he threw his head back and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.

_This is how far you'll go, Tadashi._

“Wuuuaaaaaaoooooooo!”

 _You'd rather do this than tell the truth_.

“Wuuuuuahhhooooooo!!”

_You chose this._

They moved on from making noises to pushing air between their lips, to little barking noises, to following scales on the piano. It was as Tadashi began to wah-wah-wah his way through C that Nishinoya finally decided it was time to leave. He excused himself through the front door, insisting that they not stop their lesson on his account.

“See you tomorrow, Yamaguchi,” he said as he stepped outside. “Don't worry—I won't tell a soul! You can surprise everyone with a song one day.”

“Thank you!” Tadashi said, grinning harder than ever. “See you at practice.”

And then he was gone.

Tadashi collapsed to the floor, hands over his eyes, and waited. For a while, Taiga didn't say anything. Like they were both cherishing the quiet after the racket they'd been making. Then, gently, like he was trying not to wake a sleeping kitten, Taiga began improvising a melody on the piano.

“So,” he said softly. “That was awful.”

Tadashi took his hands away from his face.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I just couldn't tell him.”

“Don't apologize for _that_ ,” Taiga said. “You can't go from _making_ out to _coming_ out in the space of seconds like that.”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said.

That wasn't it, though.

He hadn't run to the bathroom because the circumstances weren't quite right. He'd run there because he was terrified. Terrified he'd be caught doing something he was ashamed of.

That wasn't good.

“Speaking of making out, though,” Taiga said. “I take it the mood's been ruined?”

Tadashi snorted.

“I think so.”

“Then,” Taiga said, bringing his song to an abrupt, chordal end. “How about some pork curry? I'm assured it's delicious.”

Tadashi rolled onto his knees, then picked himself up off the floor. He wrapped Taiga in a hug from behind—he wasn't a great deal shorter while he was sitting down than he was standing up—and nuzzled his hair.

“That sounds nice,” he said.

They ate.

They talked about a bunch of things. The jazz festival, volleyball, the way Tadashi looked in Taiga's tank top. It was all normal, totally fine conversation.

After everything, though, it felt so anti-climactic. A huge let-down, courtesy of Nishinoya. Or more accurately, thanks to the way Tadashi reacted to Nishinoya.

Shortly after dinner, Tadashi slipped back in to his school shirt and gave Taiga a goodbye peck. Their hug at the door was a long one, and Taiga whispered in his ear just before they broke apart.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said, and made the effort to show Taiga a smile. Not a Yamaguchi Grin—a genuine, proper smile. “I'm sorry I let things get so weird. Thanks for covering for me.”

“Any time,” Taiga said. “That's all part of the boyfriend deal.”

“Let's, uh...try this again sometime.”

“Let's,” Taiga said, rubbing Tadashi's shoulder.

They exchanged one last peck, and Tadashi stepped outside to make his way home. With every step he took away from Taiga's place, he seemed to forget a little of the night's embarrassment and remember a little more of the way it started. The way Taiga felt. The way they so easily and comfortably got close so quickly.

By the time he got home, he'd already forgotten the Nishinoya interruption. He had only one thing on his mind.

He went straight to the internet and looked up the definition of the word 'ravish'.

Next time, he'd be prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS to everyone for their patience! I haven't written in a while so I'm still getting me eye in with this one. I'll settle back into the regular rhythm and we'll be golden!


	18. Confident Tadashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the delay on this one. Notes at the end for more!

“Tadashi,” Taiga scolded down the phone. “Are you watching that Oikawa video again?”

Tadashi jolted in his computer chair and hit pause right as Oikawa's smirking face filled the frame. He minimized it—as if that made any difference when Taiga couldn't see anyway—and switched to his other browser window.

“No!” he said. “Of course not.”

It wasn't the first time Taiga had caught him watching and re-watching the video Oikawa made for the Sendai LGBT youth center. Even though he hated it, he kept coming back. It was like the comments section of a YouTube video. He knew he shouldn't read it, but he couldn't stop himself. He was  _addicted_ to the outrage. 

“Really,” Taiga said. Like he was talking to a toddler, crayon in hand, insisting they hadn't drawn on the walls. Tadashi might have been good at lying to _everyone else_ about almost _anything_ , but he couldn't manage a convincing lie for Taiga no matter how he tried. “So what are you looking at, then?”

At least he had a good cover this time.

He'd been googling earlier that night.

“The definition of 'ravish',” he said. “I found two, and you better only have been planning one.”

“I wasn't planning anything!” Taiga said. “Kyoshi was lying her ass off.”

“Uh-huh,” Tadashi said, and leaned back in his chair. He imagined the indignant little creases in Taiga's forehead and giggled. “Ravish. Verb. To seize and carry off by force. And in _some_ cases, well...it gets worse. Should I have been worried about you seizing me? Carrying me away against my will?”

“I don't think I _could_ seize and carry you even if I did want to take you by force,” Taiga said. “And by the way, yuck. Don't make me say stuff like that.”

“Yeah, that definition's really awkward,” Tadashi said. “I like the next one better. To fill someone with intense delight, or to enrapture. And 'enrapture' means...” he typed _define enrapture_ into the search box. “Give intense pleasure or joy to. Oh. Same thing as Ravish, basically.”

“I like that one much better,” Taiga said. “ _Much,_ much better.”

“Me too,” Tadashi said. And then, before he could catch the words as they spilled out of his stupid mouth, “You have my permission to do that one.”

Taiga laughed, and Tadashi flushed red.

“Oh crap,” Tadashi said. “Um...”

“Tadashi don't worry,” he said. “You're allowed to say stuff like that without getting embarrassed.”

“I know, I just—”

“I guess that singing lesson really _was_ good for your confidence after all,” Taiga said. “We can keep them up if you like. Maybe without the audience next time.”

Tadashi's already-red face reddened as he remembered last night's comedy of interruptions. He'd spent the entire day trying not to think about it, and plunging into a pit of embarrassment when he did. He'd barely survived practice that afternoon by wearing the biggest, most bulletproof Yamaguchi Grin whenever he came in contact with Nishinoya.

Tadashi knew he wasn't the pin-up boy for confidence. He knew Nishinoya knew that, too. And Tsukki. And Daichi and Sugawara and...well, the entire team. But he felt different since he met Taiga. He was so  _sure_ he was more confident now.

He'd just never done anything to prove it.

Maybe it was time to change that.

Taiga caught the heavy silence.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no,” Tadashi said. “You just...you gave me an idea, that's all.”

“Oh yeah? What idea?”

“Can't tell you,” he said. “It's a surprise.”

“You're not going to actually get singing lessons, are you?”

Tadashi laughed.

“Nope, nothing _that_ embarrassing.”

“Then what?”

Tadashi wished Taiga could see his conniving smile.

“You'll have to wait and see.”

 

 

***

 

Tadashi dug his nails into his thigh and took a deep breath.

This might be the worst idea he'd ever had.

“Suga!” he said. 

It was right after home room on a Thursday—the time third years took for free study. Tadashi knew Suga would be headed from the upstairs classrooms to the library, and intercepted him on the stairs.

The ashen-haired setter turned to face him, and Tadashi had to fight the urge to run. It wasn't too late. He could yell 'made you look!' and bolt back to his classroom. Then quit volleyball—and school—and spend the rest of his life avoiding Suga.

It all seemed like such a good idea yesterday when he was on the phone to Taiga.  _Anything_ seemed like a good idea when he had Taiga right there with him, ready to pick him up if he fell over. But now, in the cold light of the north block stairwell, caught in Suga's eyeline...he felt like he was going to be sick.

If he wasn't careful here, if he didn't word himself right...

This could be the day he outed himself.

He swallowed back a tidal wave of burning reflux.

_You and your big ideas_ , _Tadashi._

“Yamaguchi,” Suga said, and his particularly warm smile lit up the stairwell. “Hello. Do you need something?”

Tadashi switched on the Yamaguchi Grin. Not as warm as Suga's, but every bit as big. To the students passing by, they must have looked like they were competing for a part in a toothpaste commercial.

“Ah!” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “You guessed it. I'm sorry for ambushing you like this.”

“It's no problem. Don't you have class?”

“Yeah, I have English to get to in class 4. I just had something to run by you first.”

So far, so good.

He hadn't managed to ruin his life just yet.

“Then let's walk in that direction,” Suga said, waving toward the first year classrooms. “You can tell me on the way.”

“Thank you!” Tadashi said, and fell into step beside him.

That was just like Suga. He went out of his way to make sure he was helpful. He was the most relentlessly  _nice_ person in the volleyball club, and he could wield that niceness like a weapon. Since he'd come to Karasuno three years ago, Tadashi doubted a single person had ever said 'no' to him. There was something about him...you just  _couldn't_ say it.

That was one reason he'd chosen Suga to talk about his idea. He was sure that if he could convince Suga to come on board with it, the rest of the team would follow.

“So what's this you want to run past me?” Suga said.

Tadashi sucked in a breath.

_Here we go_ , he told himself.  _Time to be confident_ .

“Do you remember our exhibition match against Aoba Johsai?” Tadashi said.

An easy place to start.

“Of course I do!” Suga said, and reached up to ruffle the back of Tadashi's hair. “Gunslinger Yamaguchi. I won't forget that any time soon.”

Tadashi went bright pink.

“Ah, me either! Thank you,” he said, trying to remember how someone would react right now if they weren't terrified. Flattered, maybe? Modest? In the end he let the Grin do the work. “But we had a lot of help that day from the music and drama clubs, thanks to Nishinoya's cousin.”

He clenched his fist.

This was a big step closer to the edge.

_Careful, Tadashi_ .

“Of course,” Suga said. “They made a huge difference.”

“Right. We sort of owe them one for that, don't you think?”

“Yes, sure,” Suga said. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Well, as luck would have it...” he trailed off. 

This was it. He was on the highwire now, stretched between cliffs of confidence and privacy.  It was a tightrope he needed to walk to give Suga enough information, but not raise any more questions. His stomach felt like it was a forty-foot deep pit, and he was sure he could feel sweat gathering on the back of his neck.

But that's what confidence was all about.

Deep breath. Carry on. 

“I've been taking music lessons with Nishinoya's cousin,” he said, selecting each word carefully. _Nishinoya's cousin_ , not _Taiga_. _Music lessons_ , not _makeout sessions_. “And he tells me the stage band is going to be shut down unless they raise enough money.”

“Oh, no!” Suga said. From honest-to-god anyone else it might have sounded sarcastic. “That's terrible. Can we take up a collection?”

_Okay_ , Tadashi thought.  _He's buying it_ .

No probing questions about the 'music lessons'. No comments about how Tadashi seemed to always find ways to mention Taiga. No suspicion as to why Taiga would feel close enough to tell Tadashi his financial woes.

Still so far, still so good.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Tadashi said. “They apparently need quite a bit of money.”

_Apparently_ and  _quite a bit_ , like he didn't know the exact amount.

“But he tells me they've entered a competition at the Jozenji Street Jazz Festival in three weeks that could help cover the cost. And I thought...since they were there to cheer for us—”

“A Karasuno cheer squad!” Suga said, beaming. “Nice idea!”

Tadashi tried to amplify his grin, but he'd hit the limit.

“I just thought it would let us repay the favor,” he said.

“Definitely,” Suga said. “The Jozenji festival, hm? In Sendai?”

“Yes, it's a big trip,” Tadashi said. “Plus it's on a Sunday afternoon.”

Suga scratched the bottom of his chin.

“It's easy enough to get there by train. It's just a matter of scheduling. If it were a regular practice day like Saturday we could substitute this in, but as it stands...”

“I know, it can't be an official club activity.”

“It doesn't need to be,” Suga said. “We're a club, but that doesn't mean we can't spend our leisure time together, too. It'll be good for team building!”

Tadashi nodded along.

Was it going to be this easy?

“I thought it might,” he said. “I didn't know whether to ask Daichi, or—”

“No, no,” Suga said. “Leave it to me. I'll see what I can do.”

For the first time since the conversation began, Tadashi let himself feel a tiny bit proud of himself. He'd talked Suga around pretty easily and given nothing extra away. And now, Suga would take it from here.

Nobody could say no to Suga.

_Especially_ not Daichi.

“Thank you, Suga,” Tadashi said, and bowed his head.

“Now, now,” Suga said. “Enough of that. I'll talk to Daichi through our free time this morning and see what he thinks. I'll let you know how it goes.”

“Great! Thank you. Great. Great.”

Suga laughed.

“I am pretty great!”

Less than a minute later they parted ways at the door to Class Four, and Tadashi let his grin relax. He collapsed into his seat. Every muscle in his body was sore from clenching up. He felt like he'd just played eight games of volleyball, full sets, complete with tie-breaks. The sweat on the back of his neck soaked his collar.

But part one was over with. The gears were turning, and the idea had taken on a life of its own.

_Most_ of him was happy. If things worked out the way he hoped they would, Taiga would be thrilled. Or maybe not thrilled, but at the very least  _touched_ . He would see what Confident Tadashi had done for him. See how he'd changed. 

The rest of him was still nervous.

There was still the team to convince, yet. Depending on how Daichi and Suga wanted to go about this, he might have to invite them all individually. That on its own was scary enough, but if he had to look Nishinoya in the eye and lie again...

He shook his head as he opened his textbook for class.

These weren't confident thoughts. They were Old Tadashi thoughts. He needed to tuck them away, as far as he could in the depths of his brain. That's what confident people did. They ignored their worries and carried on.

That's what this was all about. Building up confidence.

Classes droned on for the day and he half-listened while his brain flipped back and forth between excitement and anxiety. He made it through English. Then Japanese. Then History, and a nice quiet lunch with Tsukki, and his afternoon lessons. As each hour passed and practice loomed closer and closer, he felt the Yamaguchi Grin make its slow comeback. By the time he made it to the club room, his face was split, ear to ear.

Daichi gathered everyone around before they started.

“Suga tells me our friends in the music clubs need our help,” he said. “They were there for us during the exhibition match, and now we should be there for them. Yamaguchi discovered they've entered a competition in the Jozenji Street Jazz festival, and we think it'd be nice to go along and support them.”

All eyes fell to him.

_Grin, Tadashi. Just grin._

“Yeah,” he said. “Nishinoya's cousin told me about it. I, ah, get lessons from him for music—”

“Singing lessons,” Nishinoya said. “I've been to one!”

Tanaka looked like he was trying to hold in a giggle.

_Keep grinning. Keeeeeep grinning._

Suga cleared his throat.

Wonderful, day-saving Suga.

“We don't have a whole lot of details at the moment, but if you're free on Sunday the 18th of September please consider coming along. Remember how they helped us, after all!”

“Like a team trip?” Hinata said, eyes sparkling.

“Exactly,” Daichi said. “Nothing official, just social.”

Tsukki groaned under his breath, and Tadashi elbowed him.

“I mean yayyyyy,” Tsukki said.

“But will we go together?” Ennoshita said. “On the bus?”

“We'll probably get the train,” Suga said. “There's a few options...”

And everyone talked it over for a while, promising to check their diaries and save the date. Tadashi grinned the whole way through it. If the gears were turning before, the entire engine was gunned now. Daichi and Suga and Asahi were on board—that meant most of the team would follow.

It wasn't just an idea any more.

Now it was an  _event_ .

As long as everyone believed what he'd said, everything would be fine. Safe in the closet for another day. He felt the heat draining out of him as the conversation slowly dried up and everyone turned their attention to volleyball.

He allowed himself one swelling moment of pride.

Even though he'd been nervous—even though he'd been  _terrified—_ he'd make a mistake and out himself, he'd still done it. Talked to Suga. Skirted really close to the truth. Brought the team in on a part of his life he usually kept secret.

He was Confident Tadashi now.

Confident Tadashi could survive anything.

As long he kept grinning.

 

***

 

He grinned all through practice and the whole walk home. Then all through dinner and the hours after. He grinned as he sent the Jazz Festival dates to the Karasuno chat window on LINE. At some point between Daichi's announcement and now, he'd shifted from a Yamaguchi Grin to a regular, I'm-feeling-good-about-myself grin.

It was fun being Confident Tadashi.

When he sat down at his computer after his homework was done, he did two things. First, he pulled out his phone to call Taiga. Then, like a hen pecking at seed, he mindlessly went to the Sendai LGBT centre front page to watch the video of Oikawa again.

It started with the centre staff talking about how they help young people. Offer support and guidance and counselling. Then it moved on to how during the month of september, they'd have a special guest coming to talk about his experience as an openly gay sportsmen.

Then the video was wall-to-wall Oikawa.

He talked about how tough the decision was to come out. About how he hoped it would help others. About how he feels a responsibility to make the world a better place now that people look up to him.

Nothing about money. Nothing about sponsors.

_So_ many lies.

Tadashi sighed.

Every night it was like this.

Live a happy life, have wonderful friends, kiss amazing boyfriend, eat with a loving family...obsess over a pretty-boy idiot.

Maybe it was time for that to end.

He left the video playing as Taiga answered.

“Hey beaut...oh my god, you're watching it _again_.”

Tadashi laughed.

“I know, I know. But it's for a reason this time.”

“A reason, huh? Besides just, like, weird obsession?”

“Besides that,” Tadashi said, and he gritted his teeth.

He'd only spent one day as the new and improved Confident Tadashi, but it'd taught him one important lesson. Confidence wasn't something you felt, it was something you  _did_ . It didn't matter how he felt inside. There wasn't any huge difference between the old, timid Tadashi and this new version. If anything, the new Tadashi was  _more_ frightened than the old one because he did more frightening things.

But none of that mattered. Confidence was all about the outside.

And so he took a breath, shut down all the alarms in his head that were telling him to shut up, and just  _said_ it.

“I think...” he said down the phone. “I think I want to go.”

“Go?” Taiga said. “To the youth centre?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “I think I want to see him.”

“I thought you already did?”

“Yeah, but properly this time,” he said. “There's...things I want to say.”

“What things?”

“I don't know,” Tadashi said.

He really didn't. He wasn't sure about any of it. He  _kind_ of wanted to meet Oikawa properly and dump every single thing he'd done wrong at his feet. He also  _kind_ of wanted to never see him again.

“I think it's a confidence thing,” he finished.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said.

He reached over and hit 'replay' on the video.

It started again.

“Then let's go,” Taiga said, and Tadashi's heart skipped. He'd half-hoped Taiga would veto the whole thing. “He's there all through September, right? We can go early for the festival and stop by there first.”

“He's only there Saturdays.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I've seen the video a few times now. It says Saturdays.”

“Ah,” Taiga said. “Saturday. Well we can still go, but...a trip to Sendai two days in a row? Big weekend.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tadashi said. “Hard to explain to my parents, too. Unless...”

And out of nowhere, there it was.

Confident Tadashi's boldest idea yet.

“Unless?” Taiga said.

He closed his eyes and spoke as quickly as he could.

“We could get a hotel room. Stay the night?”

He kept his eyes closed tight and didn't open them until he heard Taiga's slow, gentle laugh.

“Now _that_ 's a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was really difficult to get out. In the end I'm happy with how it turned out, but dear lord, the draft file for this chapter is over 6000 words long. I just COULDN'T find the right ways to say the things I needed to! But anyway, it's here now, haha. And the chapter does the important stuff it needs to do before we launch into the meat of the SHOWDOWN arc. Thanks so much for your patience with me!
> 
> So! Next chapter we're headed to Sendai to begin a life-changing weekend! Hope to see you there :-D


	19. The Great King's Lair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on schedule! Hoo-rah!

To a casual glance, Tadashi's athletics bag looked like it always did before a training weekend. Shorts, pads, towels, t-shirts—everything he took to official team events was carefully folded and placed inside. No gaps; just so. This was luggage for a very manly, very platonic weekend. A _hetero_ weekend of sport and barbecue meats and talking about girls and their legs and boobs and all that stuff Tanaka droned on with.

Beneath that, carefully hidden, was luggage for another weekend entirely. The kind of weekend you needed some nice shoes for, and a couple of decent shirts and your trendiest pair of jeans. The kind of weekend where you hop a bullet train with your boyfriend and book into a hotel room together. The kind of weekend where that boyfriend says 'let's go to the markets and get you a decent loose-fitting tank top!'. The kind of weekend where you kiss a bunch, and confront your publicly-out arch-nemesis, and cheer on your boyfriend in a battle of the bands.

The kind of weekend you definitely, _definitely_ lie to your parents about.

“Be careful in the city,” his mother said, arms around his waist. “And on the train. The pickpockets—you don't even feel them these days.”

Tadashi smiled for her.

“Yes, Ma,” he said.

“Stay close to the team,” she said. “Nobody will bother a gang of big strong boys like that.”

“I will,” he said, and winced against what he was about to say. “But we'll just be at the gym and then the hotel. It's not like we'll be out on the town!”

“Be careful anyway,” she said, and finally let go of him. “Say hello to Tsukki for me. Tell him to come back and see his aunt once in a while.”

Tadashi laughed and patted her arm.

She'd called herself Tsukki's 'aunt' ever since they were kids. Tadashi was always visiting Tsukki, or Tsukki was always visiting him, and rarely did they spend more than a few days apart. Their mothers used to laugh that they were raising a joint family.

And in a lot of ways, they were.

He'd spent years thinking he was in love with Tsukki, but he'd freed himself from that. Now he could see Tsukki for the surrogate brother he'd always been. A tall, cool, cynical, sarcastic and _loyal_ brother. The kind of brother who would pretend to his own parents that he was going on a volleyball training weekend just so Tadashi could pretend the same to _his_ parents.

He thumbed his phone in his pocket and remembered Tsukki's text message.

 

_It's fine. I'll go to my brother's place for the weekend and swear him to secrecy. Go and do what you have to do. I'll add this (particularly big one) to the list of favors you already owe me._

 

He smiled.

Even if it took a thousand years, he'd repay Tsukki for this. Anything he wanted. Money, goods, services, favors, _whatever_. He could ask for a full-sized, living clone of a Tyrannosaurus Rex and Tadashi would find a way to make it happen. It'd been ages since Jurassic Park came out. Surely someone had a plan to make it real by now.

Tsukki _deserved_ that T-Rex.

“Train hard,” his father's voice boomed from the kitchen. “And think about letting us come to a game one of these days.”

“If we make it to Nationals,” Tadashi called back.

His father's head poked around the corner.

“If?”

Tadashi grinned at him.

He was such a _dad_. His way of being supportive was to make it an economics thing. He invested cash in Tadashi's gear and training, and would receive a return in the form of success in the sport. And, if he was pressed to admit it, in his son's happiness.

He valued both. It was just proper to focus on the first one.

“ _When_ ,” Tadashi corrected himself.

“That's better,” his father said, and disappeared back into the kitchen. “See you Sunday. Don't forget to call your mother.”

His mother put a finger right at the end of his nose.

“No,” she said. “Don't you forget.”

He nudged her finger with his nose.

“I won't.”

 

 ***

 

 They couldn't check in to the hotel until three o'clock.

Unfortunately, no volleyball training camp in the history of the universe had ever started that late. Tadashi arranged to meet Taiga at the station at 7:15am for their 7:25 train to Sendai, and was greeted by the single most pathetic, sleepy-looking creature he'd ever seen. Taiga's hair was a mop of tangles, as if he'd just rolled off a pillow thirty seconds ago. He sagged like he was tethered to the ceiling by a hook between his shoulder blades, with no energy to move any more than one limb at a time. His eyes were half-closed. He dragged his overnight bag beside him the way a toddler drags a teddy bear around his bedroom.

“Tadashiii,” he said, holding out his phone. “Something's wrong with my phone. It says 'Saturday' but then it says '7:17am'. Which doesn't exist.”

“Wow,” Tadashi said. “You are _not_ a morning person.”

Taiga shuffled to a stop and buried his face in the crook of his elbow.

“I don't know any of those words,” his croaky, muffled voice leaked out from behind his arm.

“It's all right,” Tadashi said, and took him by the shoulders. “Here, I'll steer you. You just...try to stay upright.”

“I _am_ up.”

The train—thank _god—_ was early, and Tadashi managed to maneuver Taiga into a seat at the front of a close-by carriage. He flopped into place, limp against the window. Tadashi snorted and sat beside him, rolling his eyes. _Musicians_ , man. Stay up all night and sleep all day like stereotypes weren't a thing. Maybe when he got to Sendai he could trash the room and throw a TV out the window.

Their shoulders rubbed together, which triggered a shift from Taiga. He pushed himself off the window, rubbed his head and frowned, then resettled with his head against Tadashi. His breaths were deep, his eyes stuck closed and fluttering just slightly. Tadashi leaned his head against Taiga's and sank into the seat.

Across the row, a man and a woman—about his parents age—were staring. They flicked their eyes away as soon as they accidentally made contact, but they weren't subtle. The woman even tried to pretend she was reading the upside-down newspaper in her hands.

Caught gawking, red-handed.

Tadashi sighed, and slowly turned it into a smile.

He snaked his left hand up, nudging Taiga forward, and wrapped it around his back. Taiga relaxed into him, closer than before, tucked into his armpit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other two sneak another look.

A stream of new passengers flowed through the carriage, too, searching for a seat _just_ far enough away from everyone else. About half of them spared a glance for the sleepy couple of boys in the very front seats.

And Tadashi didn't care one bit.

These were strangers. They didn't know that it was Tadashi and Taiga from Karasuno sitting on the train. All they knew was there were a pair of sleepy teens up front, and it appeared as though they were probably a gay couple.

Whatever else they thought about it was their problem.

This weekend, they could look as much as they liked.

He let his head fall back against the seat, Taiga's hair tickling the side of his neck and underside of his chin, and closed his eyes.

 

***

 

“Wa-hahhh!” Taiga said, and took a running leap for the bed. He bounced hard on it and it sent him about a foot into the air before he crashed back down again, grinning with his whole face. “Look at this room!”

Tadashi didn't just look at it. He reached out with one arm and touched the wall on his right, then took one step to the side and touched the other wall with his left. The double bed at the far end of the room was tucked under a tiny window, and they'd somehow shoved a desk and chair beside that.

“It's...cozy,” Tadashi said.

“It's five thousand yen,” Taiga said. “It's a miracle it has a roof.”

Tadashi found the sliding door to the tiny bathroom—a single shower, a basin, a toilet and that's all—and flicked the lights on and off. They worked. The place was clean. And it was close to the Sendai LGBT youth centre.

It was everything they needed.

“You think the woman at the desk believed we were brothers?” Taiga said.

Tadashi dropped his gym bag and wandered over to the end of the bed. He plonked himself down and felt the mattress. It was firm, but comfortable.

“I think she probably did right up until you put your arm around my waist,” he said.

“Nah, she couldn't see that.”

“She definitely could.”

“Well then she'll think it was a _brotherly_ hug.”

“Brothers usually keep their hands on the outside of the shirt.”

“Pfft,” Taiga said. “Not the ones I've seen on the internet.”

Without warning, Taiga leapt from the other end of the bed and tackled Tadashi around the neck, dragging him to the mattress in a tangle of arms and clothes. Tadashi yelped in surprise, and Taiga lurched forward to kiss him while his mouth was open. The yelp petered out into a muffled 'mmpphhh'. Then all that was left was the sound of lips sucking together and smacking apart.

It'd been weeks since they were last this close—that _mortifying_ night of fake singing lessons. It had started so well, and he remembered every detail of it. He knew exactly where he'd left his hands when they were interrupted. Knew exactly where Taiga left his. It'd be the work of two seconds to recreate that moment. To slip out of his shirt, and to peel Taiga's up to his shoulders.

Their own hotel room in the city.

No chance of Nishinoya bursting in on them, now.

But... _agh_.

“Mmm, mm,” he said, pulling back. “Wait. Oikawa leaves the youth center at five. If we get into this now, we'll miss it.”

Taiga frowned his most exaggerated frown at him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “I know. I know. Yes. _Yes_.”

Tadashi snorted.

“Are you sure about that?”

Taiga sat up and bounced himself to the edge of the bed.

“I'm sure,” he said, and reached over to tug Tadashi to his feet. “But take a snapshot of that in your head, okay? That's where we were up to.”

Tadashi tapped his temple.

“It's all up here.”

 

***

 

Their hotel was a four block walk from the Youth Center.

Three blocks away, Tadashi felt a twinge in his gut.

Two blocks away, that turned into a knot. And not just any knot, either. One of those knots that doesn't make sense. The kind that your headphones work themselves into when you put them in your pocket for a few days. A completely unsolvable, twisted, logic-defying knot.

One block to go, and the knot sprouted little metal barbs.

This was it. _Actually_ it. He'd been so distracted with hotel rooms and train trips and lunch and buying stuff...it was like he'd forgotten the reason they were here.

Oikawa was one block away.

And Confident Tadashi seemed to be back in Torono town.

Taiga nudged him.

“Doing okay?”

Tadashi's first impulse was to put on the Yamaguchi Grin, but he caught it just in time. This wasn't the time for putting on a face and pretending everything was fine. If he did that, his confrontation with Oikawa would only last ten seconds, and it would mainly be Tadashi apologizing for the inconvenience.

He swallowed, and nodded.

“I'm scared,” he said. “Like...really _suddenly_ scared.”

“No judgements,” Taiga said. “Turn around or keep going. I'm right behind you.”

Tadashi nodded.

And kept walking.

Maybe if he hadn't built it up so much. Maybe if Oikawa hadn't been such a huge part of the last few months, and hadn't changed everything so drastically. Maybe if Taiga wasn't beside him, or he hadn't left that comment on the website, or he hadn't promised himself to see this out.

Maybe then he could turn around and forget the whole thing.

But things were the way they were. And right now, that meant crossing the street. It meant heading directly for the low-key, block-print sign that said 'SENDAI YOUTH CENTER', and beneath that, 'All Welcome'. It meant taking a deep breath at the door and pushing on it, then taking his first step inside.

And it was done. He'd arrived.

Oikawa's lair.

“Whoa,” Taiga said. “This place is nice.”

Tadashi agreed. He'd seen parts of it already in the online video, but in person it was so much more impressive. Wide open spaces with white walls and dark carpet. Modern-looking couches and tables. Off in one corner was a library, so tidy and cozy. Another corner was filled with televisions and games consoles and a huge bank of movies to watch. A group of six teenagers—they looked younger to Tadashi, maybe thirteen or fourteen—were crammed on to a few bean bags right now, playing a split-screen driving game and trying to keep their voices down.

“Well hello,” a woman's voice startled Tadashi. “What can I do for you two?”

He turned to face the speaker and tried to stop his eyebrows from shooting to the top of his forehead. She was a middle-aged lady with short wiry hair and baked-on smile lines around her eyes. Her name tag introduced her as Michiko.

And she looked _so_ much like his mother.

“Oh, hello,” Tadashi said. “We, ah...”

She was clearly practiced at dealing with awkward kids. At a walk-in youth center, of _course_ she was. She caught the way he trailed off, the way his eyes flicked to the carpet, and took over.

“If you're just here to hang out, that's fine,” she said, smiling like his mother did when she played the piano. “As long as you read the house rules and stick to them. Or, if you need help, you can talk to anyone wearing one of these shirts.”

She tugged on the collar of her bright purple polo top.

“Actually, we're here to, um...”

 _Why_ was it so hard to say?

“I'm here to talk to Oikawa? The volleyball guy? I play volleyball as well and I saw the video about how Oikawa was going to be here to talk to high school students who are...who think they're—”

He was running out of breath.

Thankfully, Michiko's eyes were already lit up. Like he'd said the password, and now she was qualified to give him access to classified information.

“Really!” she said, grinning. There was something about the grin that implied more than just happiness, Tadashi thought. She looked like she'd won something. Like she'd been waiting for bad news, but just got good news instead. “That's excellent. Oh, he'll be so glad you stopped by!”

“He...will?”

“Yes, absolutely! Come on, out this way. He's out back, in the seminar room.”

“Oh, okay,” Tadashi said.

He took one step after her, then turned back to look at Taiga.

He was pointing to himself with both eyebrows raised, and then ticked his head to the library corner. The question he was asking was simple enough— _should I stay out here?—_ but it was something Tadashi hadn't considered until now. He chewed on his lip. Was this one of those 'I have to go alone' things? Was it cheating to have somebody else there?

He stepped back to Taiga.

“I know what you're going to say,” he said, nodding. “This is my thing. I should probably face it alone if I want to resolve it or whatever. And I mean...I think I'm ready. I'll be fine.”

Taiga coughed out a little laugh.

“Are you sure? Because I _was_ going to say you look like you're about to faint any second now, and I should probably come with you in case you need catching.”

Tadashi puffed out all his breath.

“Oh, thank god,” he said, and grabbed Taiga's hand. “Yes, please come.”

Michiko was waiting a little way ahead, and smiled as she saw them walk over hand-in-hand.

“You two are just gorgeous,” she said.

Tadashi blushed.

“I'm sorry, I forgot to say. I'm Yamaguchi Tadashi. This is Nishinoya Taiga.”

She winked at them both.

“Lovely to meet you. And you play volleyball? Do you play with our angel?”

Tadashi stuttered.

“With your...what?”

Michiko laughed into her hand, and turned to lead them away.

“We call him that around here. He swooped in one day, out of nowhere, and just started helping. We still can't believe it, really. The kids that drop in all love him—more than a few have crushes on him. I mean, _obviously_ they do. Half the staff here have a crush on him. I'm not immune!”

She launched into a little skip as she opened a door marked 'PRIVATE' and waved them through. On the other side was a long corridor with rooms forking off to either side. Some of the doors were open, and inside Tadashi saw bunks and bathrooms and kitchenettes. Some of the bunks had clothes and bags piled on them.

 _Oh wow_ , he thought. _Emergency accommodation._

This was where kids with real, serious problems came when they had nowhere else to go. When their parents screamed themselves hoarse and started letting their hands do the talking instead. A few doors down from the dorm rooms was a door with a first aid symbol fastened to it marked 'CLINIC'.

It made Tadashi sad enough to look the other way.

“What does Oikawa actually do, though?” he asked.

“Oh, just about everything,” Michiko said as she led them further along. “To start with he wanted to run a support program for high school athletes struggling with their identity. I assume you saw the video for that? That's why you're here?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said, clinging to Taiga's hand.

“But then it turned out...well, you'll see. His role sort of just evolved. Now he helps out anyone who comes through. It's amazing the difference he's made. He's not a counsellor or a psychiatrist—he's only eighteen! Can you believe that!—he's just someone the kids can talk to. Play video games with. Sometimes they open up to him and he convinces them to talk to one of us. He has excellent instincts for people. He brings out the best in them. It's just...he's our angel.”

Tadashi's eyebrows were drawing closer together with every sentence. Every _single_ thing Michiko was saying was wrong! It wasn't her fault, of course—she'd just been fooled. Like the rest of the country. The angelic-looking Oikawa had them all convinced that looks make the man. They didn't know...they _couldn't_ know the rest.

And still, his heart was thumping harder than it ever had on the service line of a volleyball court.

All these stories. All this _good_ stuff.

Why do all that when the whole point was to make money?

“Is it a...paid thing?” Tadashi asked, and his voice was half as loud as before.

“Oh, hell no,” Michiko said. “We're all volunteers here. Any funding we get goes to the facilities and services. Why, are you looking for a job? Ha!”

Taiga squeezed his hand.

“Stay calm,” he whispered. “Just remember why you're here and let the rest happen.”

Tadashi sniffed, set his mouth in a line, and nodded.

Taiga was right.

He wasn't here for the hell of it. He wasn't here to fight or to yell or to make friends or suck up. He was here to find out the truth, and _make_ Oikawa understand what he'd done. Because all the good deeds in the world— _whatever_ his reasons for doing them, and Tadashi wasn't convinced they were pure—couldn't make up for the one thing he'd unquestionably done wrong.

He'd let Tadashi down.

And it still _really_ hurt.

“So, it's just up here,” Michiko said, strolling up to a door marked 'SEMINAR 1'. “And I just want to say thanks, too. This is going to mean the world to him.”

Tadashi cleared his throat.

“You said that before,” he said. “Why, exactly?”

Her smile changed, and Tadashi was suddenly a bit disarmed. She went from her genuine, warm smile that reminded him so much of his mother and drooped to something sadder. A smile filled with pity. The kind of smile you give to someone who tried their very best, but still finished in last place.

“Well,” she said. “I'll let him tell you.”

And without any fanfare, she pushed open the door.

Tadashi squeezed Taiga's hand so hard it went white.

The room was filled with a round wooden table surrounded by felt-covered chairs. There was a tray in the middle, with a jug of water and a stack of glasses. They were all clean. The jug was entirely full.

On top of the table, sitting with his arms wrapped around his shins and head resting against his knees, was Oikawa. The sound of the door opening made him start, and he snapped his head up. His cheeks were red. His eyes were puffy. His hair was flat at the edges.

Tadashi nearly fell backward.

There he was. The Grand King. His nemesis and rival. Untouchable, uncaring, unbelievable Oikawa Tooru. The whole reason for coming to Sendai in the first place...

And he'd just recently been crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this?? Tadashi's narrative about Oikawa not quite syncing up with reality? Could it really be true? Just what on Earth is going on here?!
> 
> Find out next time in CHAPTER TWENTY: OIKAWA'S TALE


	20. Oikawa's Tale

“Michi!” Oikawa said, and leaped from the table.

Tadashi saw him transform in the space of a second. Those red, blotchy cheeks turned suddenly to a shy blush, and he ran a hand through his hair to ruffle it into its usual 'just messy enough' shape. He squinted and smiled, and his puffy, bloodshot eyes disappeared behind long lashes and eyelids.

From crying to aw-shucks embarrassed in no time at all.

Not fast enough, though.

“Oh, angel,” Michiko said. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, fine!” Oikawa said, and he blinked as he opened his eyes back up. “Sorry! I was just thinking about a bunch of things in the quiet, and—”

He finally saw Tadashi.

The sentence hung in the air, half-finished, while Oikawa stared. He looked at the way Tadashi was latched on to Taiga's hand, then at Taiga, then back to Tadashi. His expression didn't change. His mouth was still open from where he'd left off speaking.

“—and you know how it is!,” he finished, striding toward the three of them. His long legs carried him the distance in no time at all. Tadashi had forgotten how tall he was. “But I see visitors! And I know this one, too.”

“Yes!” Michiko said, her smile splitting her face in two. “Finally!”

“Finally!” Oikawa agreed. 

“So, you know Yamaguchi,” she said. “He plays volleyball! And this is Nishinoya. Aren't they cute?”

Tadashi, Taiga close at his side, took a few steps into the room and moved toward the corner. He felt like he'd walked into the room off-balance—like he was only wearing one shoe and was on uneven footing. This wasn't how it was  meant to start. It wasn't supposed to be this close-up and intimate, for one thing. And Oikawa wasn't  meant to be upset. He could handle being mad at the flirty, flighty, nonchalant, arrogant Grand King Oikawa, but  _crying_ Oikawa?

Damn it, why had he been crying just now?

Oikawa wasn't looking at either of the two boys. For now, his focus was stuck on Michiko, face lit up in a smile that would make a Disney prince feel ugly.

“ _The_ cutest, Michi,” he said. “Thank you for showing them in. Now I actually have to do some work, for once! Can you believe it?”

Michiko giggled and stepped back through the door.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

Oikawa nodded.

“Fine! Better than ever, now I have an audience. Go, go. Let me work my magic.”

“Okay. I'll come knock if it gets close to five o'clock.”

“Thank you.”

Oikawa pushed the door closed. Michiko disappeared, and he leaned against the shut door with one hand. All Tadashi could see was his back. The silence in the air was so frail, Tadashi felt like he'd break it just by breathing. Oikawa didn't turn around. Not for three seconds. Four.  _Five_ . He just stared at the back of the door, completely quiet, until he finally straightened up.

When he turned, his smile was gone.

“Pinch server,” he said.

The red hadn't quite gone from his eyes yet, and with his flat-line mouth and wary-set eyebrows he looked kind of demonic. Tadashi felt frozen to the floor. He had pins and needles in his arm—maybe from squeezing Taiga's hand too hard—and what sounded like a TV test pattern buzzing in his ears.

He just stared.

Oikawa stared back.

Tadashi was sure this is what it felt like to be locked in a cage with a lion. He felt like he should have a whip in one hand, a chair in the other, doing his best to force the beast to cower. Could he even  _make_ a beast like Oikawa cower?

And why the hell had he been crying??

“Look,” Oikawa said, pushing off from the door and taking a step forward. “If this is some kind of volleyball thing...a tactic, or something, you can—”

Tadashi's temperature spiked through the roof. Whatever plug he'd put on his feelings broke free and a dozen emotions gushed through him. All the built-up pressure surged to his throat and burst  through .

“What!” he said, his voice not loud but forceful. “No! This is...”

He stammered over the words. He was like a car struggling to start, and every turn of the key brought out a spluttering beginning to a different sentence. With each one, Oikawa 's eyes got a little wider .

“I wouldn't—”

Try again.

“You—”

Again.

“This is—”

_Again_ .

Taiga lay his other hand on Tadashi's forearm.

“I'm gay!” Tadashi finally managed.

Those words  _were_ loud, and they bounced around the room like a bullet shot from a gun. Between the rushing blood in his ears and the pounding heart in his chest, he realized it was the first time he'd ever actually said those words to someone who didn't already know. Tsukki had guessed. Taiga could tell. Oikawa...not before today.

His first ever coming out.

To Oikawa, of all people.

“I'm Tadashi Yamaguchi,” he said. “Karasuno pinch server. And I'm gay.” 

Taiga leaned forward.

“Me too,” he said, waggling his fingers. “I'm Taiga.”

Oikawa—struck still until now, mouth agape—finally smiled. Then snorted. Then let go a little chuckle. The color was back in his cheeks, and the red was almost gone from his eyes.

He was transforming back into the Great King.

“Well, yes!” he said. “Yes, I see that. Great news!”

He swept around the table and pulled out one of the chairs. In front of him was a folder and a bunch of print outs, and he began to rifle through them. 

“Have a seat!” he said.

Taiga steered Tadashi to a chair on the opposite side of the big white table. They sat down as Oikawa put his Disney prince smile back on. He was moving quickly, breathing fast, slumped into a casual and approachable posture. This was the Oikawa Michiko knew. The one they called the Angel of Aoba Johsai. He was warm. He was excited. Happy.

He launched into conversation and barely took a breath. His hands rifled through printouts, and he spoke like a kid who couldn't wait to show off his awesome toy collection.

“So you're here for the Out in Sports group, right?” he said, and he slid them a glossy pamphlet.

Tadashi caught it as it skidded toward him, right-side up. The cover was a picture of a smiling Oikawa setting a ball under one big, bold word: OUT!

“I have to say I didn't expect to see anyone I know!” Oikawa said. “But it's great to see a familiar face, Yamaguchi. May I call you Yama? I might do that anyway. And you, Nishinoya? Karasuno's libero is named Nishinoya! Are you any relation? Ah, don't tell me you're some wildcard player that Karasuno still has up their sleeve! We can barely hold you as it is! Ha. Would you like some water? I don't have—”

Tadashi pulled his chair in closer, and it bashed against the table legs, metal-on-metal. The  _clang_ went round the room and stopped Oikawa dead, and Tadashi seized his moment.

“ _Stop_ ,” he said. “Okay? Just stop and listen for a minute.”

Oikawa—now that he couldn't deny Tadashi wasn't uncomfortable, but angry _—_ stopped. He abandoned the pile of papers he was shuffling and lay them face-down on the table.

Tadashi took a deep breath, and Taiga put a hand on his knee.

_I know_ , he thought, as though Taiga could hear.  _Stay calm_ .

“Look,” Tadashi said. “I'm not here for your seminar. Sorry. I'm here because...well...”

He'd rehearsed this a dozen times in his head, but in here—in the lion's cage—things were different. His head was telling him to start from the beginning. His heart was telling him to start where it hurt most. His blood was telling him to start with Oikawa's sins and work backwards.

He wasn't sure which one of those got him going.

“You ruined everything, okay?” he said. “You were doing really well and you ruined it. All this great stuff you were saying, and then...I heard you that day. You know the day. The last time we met.”

The way Oikawa's face fell told Tadashi that, yes, he  _did_ remember. How could he not? They were inches from each others' faces.

“I was coming to talk to you, you know? I really was. But then I heard you yelling at your agent or your dad or whatever. Money? Money! Really? You just thought you could take this thing, this...personal and difficult and private thing, and sell it? I mean, how dare you!”

Oikawa didn't interrupt. He kept his eyes forward, barely blinking.

Tadashi, meanwhile, was just getting wound up.

“It doesn't belong to you, okay? It belongs to me as well. It belongs to everyone who might be, you know...gay or whatever they are, and struggling with it. It's _all_ of ours, and you don't have my permission to sell it!”

Oikawa's face still didn't shift.

Well, that was fine by Tadashi. He had plenty left to go.

“And that exhibition match! All the stuff with Iwaizumi. I mean is he even gay or was that just a stunt?”

Oikawa flinched at Iwaizumi's name. Somewhere in a deep, dark part of himself, Tadashi felt a flicker of satisfaction. That wasn't what this was about, he told himself. He hadn't come here to make Oikawa hurt—only to make him understand. But that didn't mean he could keep every single base feeling and urge in check. 

He'd made the beast cower just a little.

That made him happy.

“And you know what makes this all worse? Like...unforgivable? Is that _you're_ the one who changed everything. Because of you, I'm not the same person I was three months ago. I got shoved out of the closet and it was terrifying. I met Taiga and now we're dating. I've never cried so much and been so happy at the same time. I've never thought so much about so much stuff. And you don't even know. You don't even care about that. I thought you did and that makes me an idiot. And I mean...I...”

And then it finally got to Tadashi. The weirdness of it all. How this wasn't how he imagined it. The question that'd been whizzing around in his head since he'd walked into the room forced its way to the front of the queue and broke free.

“Why the hell were you crying just now?” he said. 

For the second time, Oikawa flinched.

Tadashi pressed on.

“You weren't supposed to be crying when I said all this stuff. It's not meant to be like this. Just...tell me what's going on. Please. I need to know what's going on here.”

All at once, Tadashi was out of things to say. He'd exhausted every single one of his accusations and criticisms in one go—fired every missile in one salvo. There was no graceful ending to his tirade, like Tsukki might have managed. Just an abrupt silence.

It stretched on a few seconds before Oikawa moved.

First, he snorted. A bewildered, humorless laugh.

Then he smiled. Not the Disney prince smile, or his usual confident one—it was much more hollow. A nervous smile. 

“That's a lot to take in, Yama,” he said. “Kind of overwhelming.”

Tadashi pushed back into the chair, his arms spread out.

“Yeah, well,” he said. “Welcome to the inside of my head.”

Another snort from Oikawa.

“Plenty going on up there,” he said.

Tadashi didn't answer. He'd said his piece.

It was time for answers, and he was happy to wait for them. He watched Oikawa nodding to himself, his eyes wandering to the table in front of him, his hands, a few of the scattered printouts. Tadashi could see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

Then he sniffed, and held his chin up.

“First of all, I wasn't crying,” he said, defiant.

Tadashi's eyebrows twisted into their most skeptical position.

Oikawa didn't miss the unspoken  _oh, really?_

“I might have been about to,” he said. “I was getting there, all right. But I wasn't crying yet. And now that you're here, I don't have to. Thank you.”

Tadashi's head ticked to the side.

“Thank you?” he said. “For what?”

“For coming here,” Oikawa said. “For talking about this. Would it surprise you to know that you're the only one who's said anything about it to me?”

It did more than surprise him. It confused the hell out of him.

“The only one?” he said. “About selling out? Or like...at all?”

Oikawa tried to smile.

“At all,” he said. “About any of it.”

Tadashi tried to speak, but he had nothing. Something was wrong. This wasn't what Oikawa was supposed to say. He was reading from a different script to the one Tadashi had written for him—had spent  _months_ writing for him. Tadashi didn't know how to go off-book with this.

“I turned invisible after that article,” Oikawa said. “It was supposed to start a conversation, you know? That's what I said in the article. But it did the total opposite. Everyone clammed up, _especially_ if I was around. And I thought I could handle that if it was just others. Outsiders. But it was everyone. Even some friends. Even some _family_.”

He looked down and shuffled at the papers on the table.

“I mean, look around you, Yama,” he said. “I came to Sendai to help people. I just wanted other high schoolers, and athletes especially, to know it was okay. You can be gay. That there are other people out here who care. The Out in Sport support group was going to change the lives of queer sportsmen across the whole prefecture. But what do I each week, instead?”

He waved a hand around the room.

“I sit here. For an hour. In an empty room. Nobody comes.”

Tadashi flicked his eyes around the room—whether it was to follow Oikawa's hand, or for an excuse to not look him the eye, he didn't know.

“So thank you, Yama,” Oikawa said. “For talking about it. Even if it's just to yell at me. I don't know whether you realize, but you _did_ say I changed something. Even if it was just a little bit, and even if I let you down since...it means a lot that someone was listening.”

“And for what it's worth,” Oikawa said, cough-clearing his throat. “I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this.”

Tadashi's breaths were just a little bit ragged.

This wasn't just off-script, an unexpected line here or there. This was a completely different script. A whole other story to the one he'd imagined. This Oikawa was...nice. Sympathetic, even. A good guy.

Tadashi found enough pettiness inside to be annoyed about it.

It was hard to be mad at this Oikawa, and that  _itself_ made him mad.

Oikawa leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. Like he was settling in for a long afternoon.

“You had a lot to say just now, Yama,” he said. “A lot of questions and...I guess accusations. I could try and answer them one by one, but I think it might be best if I tell you the whole story. From the start. It's long, but it should help you understand.

“I mean...do you have time? Is that something you're interested in?”

“I—” Tadashi started.

“ _Y_ _es_ ,” Taiga said. “Definitely yes.”

Oikawa smiled at Taiga, then looked to Tadashi.

And Tadashi suddenly saw it. Oikawa was trying his best to hide it, but it was there in his eyes. He wanted Tadashi to say yes. He was pleading to be allowed to say his piece. Whatever he had locked away inside needed to come out—just like Tadashi's torrent of thoughts had come gushing out when he walked into the room.

And Tadashi wanted to listen.

Now that he was here, opposite Oikawa, saying all these things out loud for the first time...it all made sense. The last few weeks, the way he'd been obsessed with Oikawa's video. How he'd been so determined to get to Sendai and have this meeting. How he was so sure he wanted to see Oikawa again and lay out his accusations.

Now he knew why.

“I've been mad at you for a long time,” he said. “And I haven't been able to get past it. And I think the reason for that is I don't want any of it to be true.”

The way his chest tightened up as he said the words told him everything he needed to know. He'd figured it out. These words weren't just the truth, they were the  _desperate_ truth. It'd bypassed his brain and come pouring straight from his mouth, instead. 

He didn't want to be mad.

More than anything, he wanted to look up to Oikawa again.

“If there's something I don't know, please,” he said.

His eyes bored into Oikawa's.

“Please tell me.”

Oikawa didn't move for a few seconds, but his face relaxed. Tadashi could almost follow the wave of relief down his body as his eyes un-tightened, his mouth slackened, his shoulders drooped. When he eventually leaned forward, he nodded to himself.

Tadashi clung to Taiga's hand.

_Here we go_ .

“It's not just you who doesn't know,” Oikawa said. “It's everyone. Which is the whole problem, isn't it?”

He sighed, and a wistful look came over him. He looked like he'd just seen a puppy, or like he was standing on top of a mounting taking in a gorgeous view.

“First off: Iwa. No, it isn't a stunt. I first met him when we were four years old. I'm sure I can remember it; Iwa thinks I'm making it up. He was this little brute, scrapes and bruises all over. Competitive, too. He challenged me to a race and I was _not_ about to lose to a short little brat from the street over. So we raced, and I tripped. I scraped both knees and shins all the way to my socks. Iwa helped me home. More or less carried me while I sobbed on his shoulder. He was strong even back then.”

Oikawa, lost in that memory, laughed to himself. And for just a split second, he wasn't putting on a brave face, or a front, or any kind of act. This was one of those unguarded moments—one of those bits of his soul, leaking out by accident.

“I don't think you could pinpoint when we went from being friends to something else, but it was early. It was something we never even thought about. I guess it was sometime in elementary school we figured out what boyfriends and girlfriends were, and sort of... _knew_ that's what we were. Way back then, we didn't know one of us was supposed to be a girl. How innocent is that? 

“Just before we hit junior high, we'd found out we could kiss each other, and hold hands, and cuddle. We used to do it all the time. And we weren't careful. We didn't know we _needed_ to be careful.”

The further he got with the story, the more his wistful smile faded into something sadder. Tadashi felt his thighs starting to tighten, and he was edging toward the front of the chair. Next to him, Taiga was doing the same.

“Right as junior high was about to start—we were both twelve—Iwa's father caught us in each others arms. We were sleeping in the sun. Between the sun and Iwa's body, I remember being so _warm_. And then, like a hurricane, we're yanked to our feet. I'm tossed out and told to go home. That they'd be calling my father. That I wasn't to come around again. I ran home and cried, and just _kept_ crying. I didn't know it was possible to be so sad. I thought I was never going to see him again.

“I just remember being confused. Wondering what we'd done wrong. We were older then, we knew _something_ was different about us, but we didn't think it was a big deal. How could it be? We made so much sense to each other.”

Tadashi was biting down on his own teeth.

Twelve was only three years ago for him. He remembered crushing on Tsukki back then. How would it have been if they were banned from seeing each other? Could he have even survived that loss? Who'd help him through it if not  _Tsukki_ ?

“Did he call your father, like he said?” Taiga said.

“Oh, yes,” Oikawa said. “Thing is, though: my parents could see it coming from a mile away. There's this annoying kind of person who you pluck up the courage to dramatically come out to, and they shrug and say _yes I know_. My parents both denied me my spotlight for that particular announcement.”

Taiga laughed. “Mine did the same.”

Tadashi nodded. “Tsukki, too. He basically did the coming out for me.”

“So you both know what it's like,” Oikawa said. “Yes, Iwa's father called my parents. Who argued with him, but ultimately gave in. Who told me I needed to give Iwa some space for a while. Who they told me they loved me no matter what. I was the luckiest kid in Japan that day, Yama, because I had family that loved me. I didn't see it that way at the time, though. All I knew was Iwa was taken away from me, and I needed to get him back. Because I knew he must be feeling the same way.”

The corners of Oikawa's eyes twitched, and his mouth pressed into a firm line.

“I didn't see him the entire Easter holiday, so it was two weeks before we met again. And Iwa...try to understand, his family is very traditional. His parents raised him strictly, and there's a lot of expectation. I don't know what they said to him—he's never told me. But I know it was enough to make him cold. Worse than cold. He wouldn't talk to me. He avoided me. And when he couldn't do that, he called me some hurtful things. Things he'd never have come up with on his own. Words his parents poisoned him with.

“I thought I was sad before, Yama. I had no idea how bad it could get when they turned Iwa against me.”

He looked down at the table, and turned his hands over so his palms were face up.

“I trust these hands,” he said. “Even back then, these were my greatest weapon. I could make a volleyball dance in the air. I could control five men and defeat six more. They're strong, safe hands. But they couldn't hold on to Iwa. They couldn't hold on against the sheer _force_ that was tearing him away. Ignorance and hate and fear.”

Oikawa closed his fists.

“They yanked him right out of my hands.”

Tadashi felt Taiga's hand close tight around his, and he squeezed back against it. Sweat on their palms made their grip slippery, but Taiga held on  _tighter_ . 

Oikawa sniffed.

“Then, like a miracle, after weeks of being ignored and teased, there was a knock at our door. Iwa was there, and he was shaking. He clung on to me and wouldn't let go. I've never felt a grip like it before, but I didn't care. I wanted him to stay forever. He just kept saying 'sorry', over and over, like it was the only word he knew. Eventually my mother got him calm, and we talked for a bit, and he said he didn't want to be mean to me any more. He never wanted to, but in his own words: 'it's just how the world works, Tooru'. A line fed to him by his father, I found out.

“He said we could be friends at school again if we were _careful._ What else was I going to say? I agreed. I'd have taken anything right then. 

“But Iwa wasn't going to settle for just anything. He had a plan. He was going to switch from baseball club—one his father insisted he join—to volleyball. It's where he should have been all along. He could do it without permission from his family, and his father needn't ever know. It doesn't sound like much, Yama, but it was maybe the bravest thing he could do. All for me.

“And it worked. I mean, we kept it secret. We _had_ to. And at first it was nothing like it used to be. But it warmed back up. We got to have our fumbling, secret junior high romance. Those were a happy few years. And by the time we moved on to Aoba Johsai, we were closer than ever.”

Taiga released his death grip on Tadashi's hand, and Tadashi himself let himself relax a little into the chair. Oikawa was speaking so freely again—back to being the showman, spinning a tale.

The only little thing bothering Tadashi was how this was all related to what happened this year. It seemed so personal and raw. Maybe Oikawa needed to tell it to someone. Anyone at all.

Maybe he and Taiga were the first ones to hear it.

“But it had to stay secret. Iwa's father knew we were in the same club by now. If it wasn't for the fact we were so _good_ at it—not to rub it in, Yama—he might have yanked Iwa from the club altogether. We knew we were on thin ice. Iwa and I developed a kind of school persona so everyone would think we were close, but just friends. 

“Some people say I'm too familiar with people, and they're right. I am. It's because I'm casting a wide net. If I'm this outwardly friendly with _everyone_ , nobody suspects a thing when I do the same with Iwa. And for his part, he 'keeps me in line' when I overstep. I'm the clown, he's the—forgive the phrase—straight man. And after a while, it just became who we were. We like it. It's fun.”

Tadashi knew the routine. He'd seen it a few times before when they'd played each other. Oikawa would laugh and joke and rile everyone up, and Iwaizumi would pull him back down to earth. Usually by way of a brisk volleyball to the face.

“But we didn't do a good enough job,” Oikawa said. “We slipped up. Last year, I got a call from this youth center. They said they had someone here called Iwa who needed to talk to me. Apparently, someone at school caught on to us. I don't know who, and if I ever find out...”

Tadashi lurched forward, his heart suddenly trying to skitter out of his chest and across the table. Oikawa was crumpling a piece of paper in his hand so tightly, his fingers were turning yellow. The sound of it being crushed was impossibly loud, and it set the atmosphere in the room on fire.

Suddenly, Tadashi didn't care if this was related to his questions or not. He had to know what happened next.

“Anyway,” Oikawa said, dropping the paper. “Someone told Iwa's father we were a thing again, and Iwa was kicked out of home.”

Tadashi felt like he'd been slapped.

“You're kidding?” Tadashi said.

Oikawa tried to smile.

“Just like a movie, right? He had nowhere to go that first night. His father took his cell phone—broke it right in front of him so he couldn't call me. Thank _god_ for this place. Iwa found their address in a public phone booth and turned up without warning. Michiko was working here at the time.  She still remembers it.”

Tadashi's mind raced as he replayed everything that happened since he walked through the doors of the youth center. Michiko, the friendly youth worker, who met Iwaizumi at the door. The emergency accommodation for kids who had nowhere else to go, where Iwaizumi would have slept. The kitchen, where Iwaizumi would have forced down some off-brand food. The clinic...

Tadashi felt sick.

“My parents,” Oikawa kept going. “My hero mother and father offered to put him up. My older brother moved out years ago, and so we all drove here to bring him to our home. They said he could live with us as long as he needs to. And he still does now.”

Tadashi had nothing to say. He just kept staring at Oikawa.

“He...” Taiga started. “He can't go home?”

“Oh, he can go home whenever he likes,” Oikawa said, and a twinge of a smile returned. “All he's got to do is agree to never see me again, quit volleyball, move schools, and put on a damn good show of having sex with girls. They do _not_ know what an uphill battle they've got to get Iwa to do that.”

Tadashi wanted to laugh, but couldn't.

His heart was beating too loud in his ears. His face was too burnt-up. His chest was too cold and empty. This wasn't a movie or a story. This was something that happened this year, in Japan, to Iwaizumi. To Oikawa. 

It didn't seem real.

“We're lucky in a lot of ways,” Oikawa said. “Not all of these stories end with the star-crossed lovers moving in together, you know? But then...I see it sometimes. When Iwa thinks I'm not looking, and he lets himself think back to his family. The way his eyes tense up and he tries to fight off tears.

“Iwa loves me, I know that. He's strong and always has been. But he's very uncomfortable with being gay. He can't help it after all this. To him, being gay means he can't see his family. It means he has to keep himself secret at school, and be wary around people he doesn't know. He has to act all the time. It tires him out. And when I ask him, you know...wouldn't he feel better if he just came out? Put it out in the open? He always says the same thing.

“ _This is just how the world works_ _, Tooru_.”

Tadashi shivered.

How many times had he heard the same thing—or something close enough? How many times had he told  _himself_ this kind of thing? It wasn't that it was an easy thing to say. It wasn't even that he believed it. It's that he was taught it was the  _right_ thing to say. If something doesn't seem right, then it's not meant to be. Oh well. Nothing you can do about it. Such is life.

He bunched his empty left fist.

Oikawa noticed.

“Right?” he said. “It got to me, too. That one phrase that meant we're stuck with this lousy lot in life. One little sentence stopping Iwa from being happy. Well, I watched him suffer long enough. He shouldn't have to hate himself when it's the world who did _him_ wrong. So earlier this year, I went to my father and we hatched a plan.”

The corner of Oikawa's mouth ticked upward.

“If Iwa can't be happy because of how the world works, then I'll _change_ how the world works.”

Tadashi heard the little gasp escape from Taiga, and he couldn't blame him. Tingles were pin-pricking their way down his own spine. Oikawa's voice was so  _sure—_ his face set into such confident lines—there was no avoiding being swept along with him.

“My father's a lawyer, if you didn't know,” Oikawa said. “A big one.”

Tadashi did know. He'd seen the ads for the firm on TV. The Oikawa name was well known not just across northern Japan, but in Tokyo, too.

“I came to him with an idea. I was going to normalize homosexuality in sport all across the country. A tall order, I know, but I believed I could do it. My father...not so much. But he knew I believed, and I dressed it up as a challenge for him. Act as my agent, make this happen...you'll be famous. On the ground floor of an entire cultural revolution!”

Oikawa spread his arms wide, and he started laughing. It must have been some kind of private joke, because Tadashi didn't see what was so funny.

“Yama, it was going to be so great,” Oikawa said, eyes falling back to the table. “We were going to hang it all off my celebrity. I would be the handsome face of a changing social attitude. All I had to do was smile and wave. And from there, we'd implement education programs. We'd lobby to integrate them _right into schools_ , so every kid across the country learns it's okay to be gay. We'd make training packages for sporting teams. Start support groups and awareness campaigns for bullying in sport or the professional world. It was beautiful. I think I stayed up three days straight coming up with all the _things_ we could do. There! That pamphlet with the handsome boy on the front of it—OUT! I designed it.

“But dad was right. If we were going to do any of it, we'd need money. And that means sponsors. And that means media.”

Tadashi's eyes glazed over and he tuned Oikawa out for just a few seconds. He still didn't know the whole story, but he knew this was it. This was the proof he was looking for that Oikawa wasn't just in it for the money. Not for himself, anyway.

His brain was racing ahead, filling in gaps and making new assumptions. He was re-writing his opinion of Oikawa on the spot, and it amazed him how quick and willing he was to let the old opinion go. And rather than be embarrassed or feel silly that he probably had it wrong all this time, he felt something else.

_Excitement_ . 

Excitement that he was wrong.

“We gave my coming out story to Gay Japan News. Didn't ask for any money—it didn't seem right, and it was important, you know? I thought so, anyway. And the internet lit up with chatter about the whole thing. Even Iwa was excited. He couldn't be _involved—_ if he wasn't comfortable telling his closest friends he sure as hell wasn't about to tell the entire country—but he was hopeful. Nervous because this was all happening so near to him and wondering if he'd get found out—but I promised he wouldn't.

“And then for all that chatter and talk and buzz, we heard exactly nothing. My name across just about every newspaper in Miyagi and a couple of national news TV carriers. Not a peep. We sent press releases and requests out to everyone that had a publicly listed number. No-one wanted interviews. No-one wanted to hear about our plans. And _absolutely_ no-one wanted to give us money to do it.

“I turned invisible.”

Tadashi frowned as he thought back to the time after the article was released. To him, it was everything. A day couldn't go by without the name Oikawa Tooru haunting him at every turn. But then again, he was far more invested than most people. Maybe more than anyone.

Had the story really died that quickly?

“We came up with the idea of the exhibition match a little while later. Aoba Johsai holds them regularly anyway—and not just for volleyball, but for all our teams and clubs. My father thought—and I agreed—that if we could just show some sponsors that this gay thing can attract an audience, they might come around. Not only was I good at the sport, but I was a personality they could bank on to draw crowds. Buy tickets. Buy merchandise. That kind of thing. It seemed like _such_ a good idea at the time.

“And, I mean, it was a good idea. We picked Karasuno because we knew you guys had flair, but I also knew I could probably control the game. Not only could we win, but I could let you take a lead so we could win from behind.”

Oikawa's mouth twisted into a smirk.

“Thanks to you, Yama, that almost backfired. You weren't supposed to take that second set.”

Tadashi felt his cheeks go red.

“I convinced Iwa to play along on-court. Nothing that would give us away for sure, but more than he was comfortable with. I still feel guilty about it. I just wanted to show the sponsors there was a market for this stuff, you know? Play it up for the girls in the crowd and prove there's an audience there. You heard it. There was. A kind of patronizing audience and one built mainly on sex appeal, but I mean...welcome to sport, right?

“And you know the rest already, Yama. If you heard me arguing with my father that day, you know none of the sponsors took the bait. The biggest crowd for an exhibition match in Aoba Johsai history and we got no offers. Not for equipment or clothes. Not for spokesman roles or product endorsements. Absolutely nothing. I sold myself out. I sold _Iwa_ out. Like you said, I even sold you out in a way. And all it was worth in the end was a two minute spot on TV that night.”

He looked down again, his fingers spread out on the table.

“So much for these safe hands,” he said. “I couldn't hold on to any of it.”

Oikawa seemed to have run out of words, and Tadashi sank into his chair. He felt Taiga do the same. He was exhausted—like he'd been jogging the entire time Oikawa was speaking. He felt like he'd not only listened to the story but lived through it.

“Iwa says I'm too hard on myself about it,” Oikawa said. “It's how it always goes with us. I run too far and fast, and I trip, and Iwa winds up having to carry me while I cry on his shoulder. Ever since that first day, that's how it's been.”

Tadashi couldn't manage to put together what he wanted to say.

In amongst all the wild and confused thoughts whizzing around his head, he was putting together a what-if scenario. What if things had gone the other way, and Oikawa  _had_ gotten those sponsors, and things were getting better? In that parallel world, Tadashi would never overhear the argument in the Aoba Johsai gym. All he'd see is one amazing improvement after another. Education programs in schools. Support groups. More kids feeling safe to come out. More calm and accepting parents.

He could never be mad at Oikawa in that parallel world.

“But it can't have been for nothing,” Tadashi finally said. “Why? Why didn't it work?”

Oikawa shrugged.

“Because society is too stubborn,” he said. “Because nobody wants to stick their neck out. Nobody wants to be first.”

“You did,” Tadashi said. “You stuck yours out.”

“I did,” Oikawa said, nodding. “But I'm one guy. One guy swimming against a really, really strong and conservative tide. It's one thing to say you really admire the guy with his neck out there. That you think it's a wonderful thing and you fully support it. It's another thing to stick your neck out right alongside him. And that's what I was asking a sponsor to do.

“None did.”

Tadashi waited for him to go on.

To let him in on the next step of the secret plan.

To show him that for all of his suffering, for all of Iwaizumi's suffering, for all of  _Tadashi_ 's suffering...

Something good had to come from it.

“Can it ever work?” Tadashi said, his voice cracking. “Is it going to be like this forever?”

“ _Forever_?” Oikawa said. “It could work right now. The problem is there's not enough pressure for it to change. I mean, I came out of the closet. The idea was I'd be domino number one, and I'd tip myself over and collide with the second domino, who'd bump into the third, until eventually little gay dominoes were coming out all over Japan. Trouble is: I missed. There was no second domino, and that meant my story was a novelty. Novelty stories fade overnight.

“A cascade of dominoes, though? That's a _movement_. For a little while there, I thought I was starting one. But you know the saying by now, Yama.

“This is just how the world works.”

The phrase knocked the wind out of him.

Frustration and anger and powerlessness were filling him up, and he felt like he wanted to turn himself inside-out. There was no justice to any of it. It wasn't right. They couldn't just leave it here. He hadn't come all this way—listened to all this, gone through all this pain—just to be told it's hopeless.  _Oh well! Shame it didn't work out._ There had to be  _something_ he could do.

“Right now, I'd settle for making Iwa happy,” Oikawa said. “I'd settle for making any kind of difference, no matter how small. Just something to prove I wasn't invisible. That something good came of all this.”

And Tadashi's head snapped up.

Maybe there was one thing he could do.

His heart began to race as a memory bubbled up from somewhere deep in the pits of his brain. It was so long ago, now, and he hadn't thought about it since the exhibition match. But there was one way to prove to Oikawa that he'd made a solid difference. To show him that, for at least  _one_ person, the effort had been worth it.

He fished his phone from his pocket and brought up the web browser. The comments section was still bookmarked. The things he'd written underneath Oikawa's article still right there, time stamped a month before the exhibition match.

He zoomed in so the words filled the screen, and slid it across the table. It stopped within arm's reach of Oikawa, and he leaned over to pick it up. He looked at it cautiously, like the whole thing might be a prank. But then, as his eyes scanned each word, his whole body began to tighten up.

Tadashi closed his eyes.

He could remember every word.

 

_Oikawa,_

_There's no way for you to know this but you changed a lot of things for me when you did this interview. Some of them were bad, but some of them were good. I think, when I count them up, the good outnumbers the bad._

_I'm gay. And now I've told two people. I honestly thought this would be a secret forever, and I'd never stop pretending. You gave me a shove out of the closet and at first I hated it. Now I just feel relieved._

_If you can say it out loud, in public...maybe I can say it in private to the people who matter most. Thank you._

_\- PINCH-SERVER-GC_

 

 

When Oikawa looked up, there was no way to deny it this time. He wasn't 'about to cry'. He wasn't thinking about it, or building up to it. Weeks ago, PINCH-SERVER-GC had fired the shot that finally hit him hard enough to shake the tears loose.

Tadashi's eyes stung, too.

It was only one small thing, but it helped.

And in that moment Tadashi felt something he never had before. The sheer joy of knowing he'd made a difference, no matter how tiny. The connection between two almost-strangers through nothing but a shared experience. To not just hear someone's story, but recognize yourself in it…

This is what it felt like when you weren't invisible.

“Pinch server,” Oikawa said with a heavy, wet voice. And though the tears were falling from his eyes like a leaking shower head, he grinned the widest grin Tadashi had ever seen.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Ack I'm so sorry for the delay with this one. I had an unexpected trip across the country last weekend and had no time to write, and it's no exaggeration to say this is easily double the length of one of my usual chapters. Back to weekly updates now! (Again! lol).
> 
> So now we know Oikawa's tale. This is an uncharacteristically heavy chapter, I know, and so I want to put this link up in case anyone's reading this and feeling like they need to talk to someone. [The Trevor Lifeline](http://www.thetrevorproject.org/pages/get-help-now#lifeline) \- A place with numbers to call and a text chat and many links for any young queer people that need support.
> 
> We are almost at the end of Part 3, which means we're hitting the dark before the dawn. I promise things will start to get better for our lovely cast soon! As always, thank you for reading. I promise the next update will be sooner, and not quite so bloody long, hahah.


	21. Naked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, spoiler alert here (no way around it I'm sorry, but I mean the chapter IS called 'Naked'). This chapter contains a FAIRLY vanilla but lengthy depiction of mild sex. It's nothing I don't think you'd find in a YA novel that doesn't fade to black (I honestly don't think I'll need to change the 'gen fic' or 'teen' tags on the story), but IF you'd prefer not to read it, just skip the middle 'section' separated by the asterisks.
> 
> Also this chapter contains my one and only use of the word 'FUCK' for this entire story. SEE IF YOU CAN SPOT IT lol.

Tadashi had never been hugged by someone who was in every way bigger than him before. Oikawa's arms stretched all the way around his shoulders and overlapped across his back. His nose was barely higher than Oikawa's chin, and he had no choice but to tuck his face against a collarbone that showed through the shirt. Oikawa was muscle where Tadashi was bone, all heat and solid padding. No sharp edges. No jutting bits.

Tadashi's entire body felt swallowed whole.

The feeling of those hands on his back stayed with him until he heard Michiko's knock at the door. It stuck around as Oikawa exchanged phone numbers with him and Taiga and promised to talk again soon. It followed him as they said goodbye to Michiko, waved Oikawa off to the train station, and went to get something to eat.

Tadashi ordered the lightest looking ramen they had and handed over his own menu. It took no time at all to arrive, and they both ate in silence until every last drop of liquid was drained from the bowls. He collapsed back into his chair and tugged at his collar—the humidity was thick. Sweat was rolling down the back of his neck.

“So,” Taiga said as the waiter cleared their table. “That was intense, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I, uh...don't know what to make of it just yet.”

“Me either,” Taiga said. “If you want to think out loud or anything, go for it.”

Tadashi shook his head. Slowly, like he was watching a game of tennis.

“Not yet,” he said. “I need a while to turn it from information into thoughts, you know?”

“I do know,” Taiga said. “But you're okay?”

He searched himself for an honest answer, and all he could come with was 'I don't know'. It was all a mish-mash of stuff. Some of him wanted to grin like a maniac, some of him wanted to burst into tears.

And behind all that, something extra.

Something important.

Something he couldn't make sense of just now.

“Yes,” he said, and smiled. A drop of sweat tickled its way from his forehead to the bridge of his nose, and he swatted it away. “Hot, though.”

Taiga snorted, and the laugh made him bounce. The bounce shook free a smile that was waiting for the right time to loose itself. One side of his mouth turned up further than the other, his teeth snagging on his bottom lip to gently bite it as he widened it to a grin.

Tadashi knew this smile from TV.

This was a _sexy_ smile.

“Hot, huh?” Taiga said, tugging theatrically at his collar. “Me, too. You know, our room has an air conditioner. If we wanted to find somewhere to escape this _stifling_ heat...”

“Oh, definitely,” Tadashi said, fanning himself with his napkin. “We should hurry, too, before the heat gets so bad we can't make it.”

“Good idea,” Taiga said. “I'll pay up.”

And on his way to the cashier, he bent down to whisper in Tadashi's ear.

“You better remember where we were up to.”

Tadashi tapped his temple.

“All up here.”

 

 

***

 

The door clicked shut and their hands were on each other.

Tadashi felt Taiga grab him and spin him, face-to-face. He didn't have time to think before a hand cradled the back of his head and brought him into a kiss. He leaned into it, arms wrapped around Taiga's shoulders, and tilted his head so he could push in closer. Taiga's fingers curled in his hair—little tingling pinpricks as they tugged at the roots.

He could taste the miso from the ramen on Taiga's tongue. He could smell the way Taiga smelled after a long day—sweat and faint deodorant and skin. His lips were soft. His back was firm. He breathed deeply and heavily, and the rushing air from his nose tickled against his ear.

Tadashi was already straining in his pants.

“This isn't where we were up to,” he said, his lips brushing Taiga's cheek.

“Don't care,” Taiga breathed back.

Taiga grabbed the hem of Tadashi's shirt and yanked it up over his head—a starving man unwrapping a candy bar; a kid ripping the packaging from his brand new Xbox. Tadashi flung his arms up, and Taiga tossed the shirt into the corner of the room. He started to peel himself out of his own shirt, but Tadashi didn't wait. He stuck his hands underneath the fabric and slid them upward along Taiga's bare skin, the shirt bunching and gathering as he went, all the way up his ribs and shoulders, along his arms and wrists and hands. He tossed the empty, deflated shirt away.

Now there was nothing between them, and Tadashi felt hotter even though he was wearing fewer clothes. That heat filled the entire room as they rushed to meet lips again—the slippery, suckling sounds so loud in the tiny space. Tadashi let his hands wander wherever they wanted, and they made their way to Taiga's waist. Then the small of his back. A jutting backbone, two divots either side, the muscles beneath shifting as Taiga pressed in closer.

Tadashi shook as his fingers kept moving.

One fingertip, pressed firmly against Taiga's skin, slid downward between cloth and flesh. His blood quickened as he touched this untouchable place. The sacred skin beneath the wasitband. He snaked a second finger down. Then a third. Then his entire palm was resting inside Taiga's underwear, cupping the space between his hip and butt.

Without ever breaking their kiss, Taiga answered with his own hands. Tadashi felt them trace down his back, one either side of his spine, until they bumped into his belt. Then slipped beneath it. Taiga's hands had none of Tadashi's hesitance, one each firmly planted on Tadashi's cheeks. Taiga pulled him closer, and Tadashi arched his back so not a single part of their fronts didn't touch _._ Didn't _squeeze_ together.

He was harder than ever, and he could feel himself sandwiched between his own hip and Taiga's pants. As the initial rush of sensation wore off, he could map out Taiga's body against his. Ribs. Hip bones. That stiffness pressing back against his.

He was still shaking. Not much, but enough to shudder as he breathed. Taiga was doing the same—tiny little trembles as he went from breathing in to breathing out.

“Let's—” Taiga said, interrupted as Tadashi pressed against his lips. “Let's lie down.”

They made their way to the bed, hands still lost in a tangle of cotton and skin. Tadashi didn't want to give up an inch of the space between them, but it was harder to keep up contact as they lay beside one another. Instead, he moved his hand from inside Taiga's pants and planted it on his chest. The searing skin, the flat muscles, the bumpy landscape of bones...the heartbeat pounding against his palm. He _needed_ to touch it all. Clavicle, the dent between his chest and stomach, the neat line that divided his stomach in to two halves , his navel, the wisps of hair that sprouted _beneath_ his navel.

Taiga's hands moved, too. One followed Tadashi's lead, exploring his chest and stomach and neck. The other stayed inside Tadashi's underwear, and inched around. From a girm grip on his cheek, to a caress beneath his hip, to the empty space above his thigh. And then, finally, tracing so lightly it tickled, his fingers found a patch of hair. Tadashi gasped as, fingertip by fingertip, Taiga took him fully in hand.

The kissing that had been the constant soundtrack to their fumbling stopped as Tadashi suddenly couldn't concentrate on breathing. The whole moment hung in the air, still, as Tadashi felt a warmth in his groin he'd never known before.

He moved his own hand downward, following the trail of hair to Taiga's waistband. He slipped beneath, slowly as he could, and found Taiga as hard as a rock, straining to escape his tight underwear.

Then, all at once, the kissing started again. Different, this time.

More desperate.

Their hands knew what to do. They worked almost in unison, rising up and down slowly, gripping just hard enough. Every muscle in Tadashi's body clenched as Taiga coaxed tingling, straining pleasure out of him. Sweat was running down his forehead now—Taiga's, too—and he could feel himself tumbling into the feeling in his crotch.

_Not now...no way..._

He pushed upward and let go of Taiga, who followed his lead. The relief of it made Tadashi sigh as he relaxed all over.

That was close.

They were still wrapped up in pants—stupid, unnecessary pants—and so Tadashi traced his way to Taiga's top button and fly. He undid it carefully, fumbling the zip, and helped Taiga out of his jeans. Taiga did the same, popping Tadashi's buttons much more forcefully and yanking his pants over his feet. They kissed again. And without looking, Tadashi slid his hands into Taiga's waistband. Just like he'd done with the shirt, he slid his hands down along Taiga's skin, over his thighs and shins and feet, until all he held was an empty pair of boxer-briefs.

He swung his knee over so he was straddling Taiga's thighs and pressed him to the bed with one hand. Then he drew himself up to his full kneeling height and _looked_.

Taiga didn't try to hide himself, and Tadashi didn't look away.

His heart pounded while he took it all in. He'd never even seen Taiga with his shirt off—apart from glimpses down loose tank tops—and now felt like he was spoiled all at once. His tight dark skin wrapped around long, lean muscles and bone. Tiny nipples on an utterly flat chest. He was compact, shoulders and waist almost the same width and nothing but sinew between. His erection—he couldn't help notice they were roughly the same size—was so tight it was raised off his stomach by an inch.

It was brave, Tadashi thought, to let yourself be seen like this. Laid out, naked beneath someone else. Excited. Vulnerable.

Taiga tensed his stomach to sit up—his muscles dividing his body into the _sexiest_ creases—and kissed Tadashi on the chest. Hands slid across his underwear and slipped it downward, and Tadashi lifted his knees so the last of the clothes that separated them could be tossed away.

They studied each other like there'd be a quiz later.

“You're...” Tadashi said, but stopped.

What could you say that didn't sound like a horrible cliché?

“Naked?” Taiga said.

Tadashi laughed.

“ _So_ naked,” he said.

Taiga grinned, and he leapt up to kiss Tadashi on the lips. He hooked his elbow around Tadashi's neck and pulled him back down to the bed. They lay there together, lips to lips, hips to hips, throbbing against one another.

Tadashi couldn't tell how long they stayed that way. As close as they could be, nothing between them. They gyrated as they kissed, letting their mouths set the pace, and listened to the sounds of their breathing. Sweat had worked its way between them and made things a little slippery. Each time their skin slid apart, Tadashi _ached_ with the need to press tighter. Get more traction. Get _closer_.

They eventually took each other in hand once more, stroking more gently than before. Taiga quickened his kisses, though, and his wrist followed suit, like he was on a downhill slope without any brakes. Once he got started, he couldn't keep it at a steady pace. Tadashi strained against the feeling, pulled his hips backward, and eventually had to catch Taiga's forearm.

“I don't wanna finish yet,” he said.

“Me either,” Taiga said, slipping from Tadashi's other hand.

He rolled Tadashi onto his back and straddled his stomach. Tadashi felt his erection press against the small of Taiga's back. It throbbed and bobbled on the spot, and Tadashi could feel it building. A swelling in his gut. The rushing sensation deeper down.

Taiga leaned down and kissed him. Then moved his lips to the side and took Tadashi's earlobe in his mouth. The gentle sucking on his ear, the sound of close-up breathing, the incredible warmth at the side of his head. So hot...

“Taig—” he said.

But it was too late.

Without even being touched, he felt himself tighten all over. Heat and sensation gushed through his entire body, and his legs jolted as he came without control. The pulses kept coming, one after the other, until he finally remembered to breathe.

“Ahh,” he finished Taiga's name.

But Taiga couldn't answer.

So gentle until now, he dug his fingers into both Tadashi's shoulders. He wrung a whimper from his throat in little waves—right in Tadashi's ear—and in each silent gap Tadashi felt a new searing-hot wet spot slap against his chest and neck. When Taiga stopped shaking, their foreheads were pressed together, and they shared the same warm air between their mouths.

“Sorry,” Taiga said. “I felt you go and...that made me go.”

Tadashi kissed him. He didn't want to apologize.

“That...” Taiga started. “The way I could _feel_ you lose control to it. I even know exactly what I did to make it happen. That was—”

“That was hot,” Tadashi said.

Taiga laughed, and pressed his forehead against Tadashi's again.

“So hot,” he said.

For a few seconds they did nothing but breathe together. Taiga closed his eyes, and Tadashi stared at him. This close-up he couldn't see anything but a sketch. A blur of dark skin, dark hair and the smell of their bodies.

They'd barely touched each other. It could only have been fifteen minutes since they first walked through the door. They'd each managed to come without any help from the other and the whole thing was short and sloppy. If this was a TV show they'd both be totally embarrassed, mortified that they hadn't executed a porn-perfect sex marathon on their first try.

But this was real. And Taiga was real. And what they'd just done was _so real_.

It was perfect.

“Um, hey,” Taiga said. “So I don't want to kill the mood, but...”

Tadashi's eyebrows went up.

“I sort of can't move, or this mess on my back will go basically everywhere.”

Tadashi looked down at his chest.

“Uh, me too.”

Taiga laughed.

A huffing, shaking laugh that Tadashi felt through his entire body. He joined in, and soon they were giggling like they'd heard the funniest joke ever told.

“We didn't think this through,” Tadashi said.

“Nope,” Taiga said. “And now we're stuck like this forever.”

And then—like it was the last one he'd ever get, like it was the final scene in a romance film, like it was to win a contest—Tadashi put all his energy into one more kiss. Deep and powerful and loud, the kind where he tried to steal all of Taiga's breath and keep it for himself.

When they broke apart, he looked Taiga in the eye.

“Worth it.”

 

***

 

Tadashi woke at twelve past three in the morning.

They'd fallen asleep too early. It was only nine o'clock when the cleanup was finished and they collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

Now he was wide awake.

Taiga was still splayed across him. Chin on his shoulder, arm across his chest, bare thigh on Tadashi's bare thigh. They hadn't bothered getting dressed, and the covers were only half-up on the two of them. He looked down at Taiga's hair and his bumpy back. At just the top of his butt before it disappeared beneath white sheets. At the way his arm rose and fell with each one of Tadashi's breaths.

Taiga.

He brought his left arm up to stroke his back.

Their nakedness didn't make him shake any more. Lying here together, so close and comfortable, warm and quiet...it was beautiful. This was his, now. He had this place he could come back to, where he and Taiga could love one another without anyone to tell them different.

His heart skipped.

 _Love one another_?

For some reason, the thought brought back memories of Oikawa. Of the story he'd told about Iwaizumi, kicked out of home because of who he fell in love with. Of all the things Oikawa had done—come out to the entire country, made himself the rallying cry for an entire cultural change, shouldered the responsibility when that failed...

All because he loved Iwaizumi.

Tadashi stared at Taiga.

His hand on his back, right where Oikawa's had been on him earlier. The memory brought back the feeling. Two slabs of hands, arms wrapping him up. That weird mix of sadness and joy he felt at the ramen joint. That one thing trying to get out of him that he couldn't quite understand.

And then, out of nowhere, his eyes stung.

Not gently, like an 'Ooh, I'm getting teary' kind of sting. It was the kind of pain that made him squeeze his eyes shut, and his whole body shake. These tears hadn't knocked; they'd barged the door down and stormed from his eyes. His face went red. His throat went tight. Air wheezed out of him uncontrollably, and he felt his nose clog up with runny gunk.

And that's when he knew.

It wasn't that he didn't understand what he was feeling. It's that he didn't want to admit to it.

Taiga stirred, and straight away knew something was wrong.

“Tadashi?” he said, and he rolled onto his chest. “What's wrong?”

Tadashi couldn't quite talk yet.

He was still piecing it together, but he knew this was everything. This thing that was gushing out now— _this_ was why he'd been so mad lately. This was why he came to Sendai to see Oikawa. That meeting wasn't the goal, it was the last step on the way to reaching his goal. And however accidentally, he'd just managed to reach it.

All that was left was to let it out.

“I'm so...”

What was the word Tsukki liked to use?”

“ _Pathetic_ ,” he said.

Taiga—whether from surprise or bewilderment—laughed.

“What? What are you talking about?”

There were no more excuses left. No more reasons to lie to others or to himself. He and Taiga had shared everything now. Thoughts, feeling and bodies. Here they were, naked, completely open to one another.

For some reason, Tadashi felt it was the first time he'd _ever_ been naked.

“I thought I was doing so well. I thought I was so confident. But I'm not.”

“Slow up,” Taiga said. “What do you mean?”

Tadashi squeezed his eyes shut.

His brain and mouth were working independently of the rest of him. Now that he knew what he was accusing himself of, the examples were coming thick and fast.

“That night at your house, when Noya turned up. And I ran. I didn't even say anything, I just _ran_ _away_ as quickly as I could and hid. Or the other day, when your name came up during practice and I had to keep pretending like I didn't know you that well. I made Tsukki go to his brother's place for the weekend so I could tell a more convincing lie to my parents. I made you come to the train station at seven-thirty just so I could keep you a secret. My stupid, _stupid_ grin. I'm...I'm just _pathetic_.”

“Guchi-chan,” Taiga said, rubbing his chest. “Where's all this coming from?”

“Oikawa,” he said, sniffling. “He's out there trying. And he needs help, you know? He deserves to make this work and he can't do it alone. He needs someone with money or good looks or talent or whatever to stand by him and force things to change. And instead, out of all the people it could be, out of all the high school athletes who could possibly step up, the only other person in the world who knows how much help he needs...is _me_.”

The stinging again.

So sore it made him bend in the middle while he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Oikawa needs a hero,” he said. “Instead, all he has is pathetic Tadashi Yamaguchi.”

He didn't even try to stifle his sobbing, and Taiga didn't say anything for the time being. He just lay his hand on Tadashi's stomach, stroking up and down his belly like he was calming an animal. Tadashi let the tears gush out until he ached all over, and the wellspring seemed to dry up a little.

“I'm not strong enough,” he said. “I want to be, but I'm just...I'm sick of all this. I'm sick of excuses and lies and secrets. I want to be proud of you. I _am_ proud of you! I want people to know that. I want to help Oikawa. I want to help make a Japan where he and Iwaizumi can be happy. Where you and me can be happy. I want...I just...”

Here it was.

Here was the thing.

The all-important, tear-jerking, impossible mother _FUCKING_ thing.

“I want to be out,” he said. “But I'm just not strong enough.

And then, like a faucet, the tears turned off.

Like he'd just vomited up some poison and was no longer dying.

Like someone had taken all the pins out of their Yamaguchi Voodoo doll, and he didn't hurt any more.

Taiga took his chin between his fingers.

“You know you don't have to _do_ anything, right? Just because Oikawa's out there doesn't mean you have to be. This isn't your responsibility. You're gay—that doesn't mean you _owe_ anyone anything.”

Tadashi nodded.

“I know that. But that's not how it feels,” he said, and he peeled Taiga's hand from his chin. He rested them both against his chest, Taiga's hand beneath his. “In here.”

Taiga sighed and lay his head down next to Tadashi's.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

They lay together in silence for a while, Taiga's hand pressed to his Tadashi's chest. His heart tapped against it—slower and slower with each beat as he calmed down. He felt spent. Like he had nothing left inside.

“You say you're not strong enough, but who is, really?” Taiga said. “And besides, nobody starts off strong. And we're only _just_ starting off, Guchi-chan. It's like your serve. That jump-float serve that nearly killed Oikawa's plan to win the exhibition match. You didn't start strong with that, right?”

Tadashi snorted.

“Not at all.”

“Right,” Taiga said. “You start off small. You change little things, you learn and you improve. You don't do it overnight. It takes time.”

Tadashi stared at the ceiling. No words offered themselves.

Taiga snuggled in closer.

“Same thing goes for this. For being out. You start off small, and you get stronger. Learn from the people around you. Lean on people who support you. It's okay to _have_ role models before you _are_ one.”

Tadashi's head flopped to the side.

“And then?” he said.

Taiga kissed him. A little peck on the lips.

“Then,” he said, pausing for another kiss. “Bit by bit, you make a difference.”

The kisses.

The heat.

The closeness.

Everything they'd done tonight.

It all flooded back to him as he leaned in to Taiga. Through all the turmoil in his head, this sensation was clear. Being here, now, with Taiga— _this_ was what mattered.

The rest could wait until it was day time.

 _Start off small_.

He snorted.

A tiny little laugh. Then another one. The bed shook as he got carried away, and Taiga stared at him.

“Laughing, now?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “I just...I don't know. This was weird of me. Sorry I laid all that on you. I don't even really know why I said it.”

Taiga snorted, yawned, and nestled in against Tadashi's neck.

“Don't worry about it,” he said.

“People say weird things when they're naked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phwoar. And we're done! So you know how I said this is a feelgood story and we've spent like 2 weeks being sad? Well as of NEXT WEEK, I predict a sharp drop in ';_;' style comments and upsurge in 'XD XD XD' style comments. Just so you don't think I've gone and turned this into full-time angst, hahaha.
> 
> Next week! THE SHOWDOWN AT THE JOZENJI STREET JAZZ FESTIVAL BEGINS!


	22. Yamaguchi Grin Redux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END OF PART THREE!
> 
> Sorry for the delay everyone! This was a difficult one for the sheer amount of elements that had to go in to it. You'll see! Also make sure to check out the end notes for tidbits about the songs referenced in this chapter and SOME FAN ART OH MY GOURD.

Tadashi waved Taiga off to rehearsal right as he got the text from Tsukki.

 

_2:15 train. The two simpletons are on it too, for some reason. I think just to annoy me._

 

It made him laugh. Everything seemed so much funnier this morning. Taiga's jokes made him laugh. The nozzle on the shower made him laugh. The way the cafe served their eggs made him laugh. The way the rain started belting down on his way to the station made him laugh. The way he got soaked all over and had no spare clothes made him laugh.

Nothing could shake him from his mood. How could it?

It was Showdown day at the Jazz Festival, and Taiga was going to win a million yen.

“Tsukki!”

Tadashi saw him get off the train about six carriages down the platform, his head towering above the other passengers. Tadashi grinned at his tall, tall friend—that one giraffe with his head up while the rest of the herd was grazing.

Behind him, deep in argument, were Hinata and Kageyama.

Tadashi's grin deepened, _widened_ , and he jogged toward them. The water on the soles of his feet squelched and squeaked with every step.

“Tsukki!” he called, waving. “Hinata, Kageyama!”

He watched as Tsukki—headphones planted on his ears, three thousand percent done with the bickering pair beside him—caught sight of him and hurried over. Kageyama and Hinata followed slowly, circling and pecking at each other like birds snapping over crumbs of bread.

Tsukki pushed his headphones down on to his neck, which was his way of saying 'hello, Yamaguchi, it's really good to see you.' In the same way a dog showed you his belly, Tsukki's most intimate display of affection was showing you his ears.

“These two happened to be on the same train,” he said, tilting his head at the squawking pair. “They've been fighting like that since before I boarded. People were staring. It's no longer a question of _if_ I'll murder them, but _when_.”

Tadashi laughed.

“I'll be your alibi, Tsukki,” he said. “I owe you one for this weekend.”

“Yes, you do,” Tsukki said, and he arched his eyebrow. “You look...happy.”

Tadashi nodded.

“It's a beautiful day.”

“It's raining.”

“Yeah, but not in here.”

“You think it's beautiful...in here?”

Tsukki looked about—at the grimy tracks, and the skittering rubbish being blown about by the wind, and the nasty station birds that wanted to steal your hair for their nests—and Tadashi shrugged.

“What can I say? I'm in a good mood.”

“Clearly,” he said. Then he lowered his voice, and leaned in close so nobody would hear. “So everything went...okay?”

Tadashi felt like he couldn't smile any wider. It was like the Yamaguchi Grin, but... _different_. Fuelled by something more powerful than that old, fake thing ever was. Like someone had replaced the worn-out bulbs behind his eyes with shiny, bright new ones. Replaced the tired elastic in his cheeks with taut, springy stuff that could stretch further with way less effort.

“Yes,” he said. “Much better than okay.”

Even his voice sounded new.

“Oi, Yamaguchi!” Hinata said.

“Yamaguchi,” Kageyama said.

Tadashi turned his grin on them.

“Hi, hi,” he said. “You're early!”

Kageyama grunted.

“This one,” he said, slapping Hinata on the back of the neck, “told me four o'clock, not six.”

Hinata lit up red as a traffic light.

“ _You_ told _me_ four o'clock!”

Tadashi held his palms outward.

“Ah, not to worry! We can go and—”

Kageyama bared his teeth.

“WHEN?” he said.

“When I asked you!”

“If I said it, it was only because you did first!”

“What! I said 'six' then _you_ said 'no, four' and then I said 'are you sure' and you said 'of course I'm sure I'm Kageyama I'm never wrong about anything ever'.”

“I was sure because _you_ told me it was four!”

And they were off again.

There were some things in life so _certain_ that seeing them had a way of making everything seem okay. The sun came up in the morning—great, no need to panic. The tides went in and out—phew, all is well, carry on. The vice principal's toupee is on crooked again—situation normal.

Hinata and Kageyama are arguing with each other.

The world keeps spinning. Life goes on, just like always.

Tadashi threw a sheepish look at Tsukki, whose eyes were narrowing into more and more dangerous slits. Pretty soon he'd have no eyes at all. Just two firm lines, fused together.

“Fighting like this,” he said, nose pinched, voice a whisper. “All the way here.”

Tadashi laughed, and rubbed the back of his head.

“Maybe it's _two_ I owe you.”

 

***

 

Three and a half hours later, the entire team had made its way to Sendai. Daichi, Suga, Asahi, all the second years...even Yachi and Shimizu tagged along. The rain had stopped—mostly—and the streets were filled up with people and the sound of music. Tadashi led the group like the conductor of a marching band, keeping them all together and ushering them along the streets toward the park.

Part of him expected to feel strange, taking the lead like this.

It was the sort of thing that usually made him anxious.

“That stage is huge!” Hinata said as they got closer.

“So is the crowd,” Yachi said. “Our cheers will get lost.”

“We'll just have to cheer louder,” Daichi said. “Like they did for us.”

“Leave it to us, Captain!” Nishinoya said, collaring Tanaka. “We've been practicing our shouting.”

“Aren't you always?” Suga said.

Tadashi smiled. Another of life's constants:

Nishinoya and Tanaka never talked when they could shout.

The warm-up band was just wrapping up. Staff dressed in all-black hurried about behind them, setting up microphones and testing speakers and fiddling with lights. Two of them hoist up a big banner to hang from the stage roof that said _SHOWDOWN at the JOZENJI STREET JAZZ FESTIVAL._

Tadashi felt his phone buzz—a message from Taiga.

 

_We're band four out of six – so we're on towards the end. Once it's done we can come down and watch from the crowd so I'll see you soon!_

 

Tadashi smiled at the phone like it was Taiga himself.

 

_GOOD LUCK. But you don't need it. I'm already planning what to do with that half-million extra yen. x_

 

Taiga's reply was quick.

 

_100 more nights in our hotel room? ;)_

 

Tadashi laughed out loud.

 

_And a hundred more mornings and lunch times. And right after brunch some days, too. But HEY, the warm up band's leaving! It's starting! Go win some money!_

 

Tadashi only had time to let everyone know Taiga was on fourth before the speakers began pumping out welcome music. A huge, electronic _thrum_ that drowned out everything and gave way to a high-energy, driving drum beat. The crowd started cheering—Tadashi _really could_ hear Nishinoya and Tanaka above everyone else—and a pair of confetti cannons shot glittering pieces of paper into the air. Somewhere behind the racket, an announcer was doing his best to introduce the show.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome!” he yelled in that broken kind of rhythm all announcers used. “To the SHOWDOWN! At! The Jozenji Street Jazz Festival!”

The noise and the lights and the crowd took Tadashi straight back to the exhibition match with Aoba Johsai. That same tingle of energy that seemed to come from the atmosphere itself was pumping through him. It was like little electrified bugs were crawling all over him. He wanted to _move,_ and jump and shout.

The announcer went through all the usual “welcome” stuff and made a big deal of the prize money, which sent the crowd into another frenzy of shouts and applause. Then he explained the rules. There would be a toss of a coin, and depending on how it landed each band would need to make the judging panel either _laugh_ or _cry._ Once the judges were introduced, everything was set.

“Yamaguchi,” Yachi said at his side. “Do they stand a better chance of winning with either one? Laugh or cry?”

Tadashi smiled at her, and something tickled the back of his brain.

She was asking _him_.

Not Nishinoya, who—as far as Yachi ought to be concerned—knew Taiga best.

“Taiga's voice can make you do either,” he said, and deepened his grin. This new Yamaguchi Grin that came so much easier than the old one. “But I'd prefer to laugh today, wouldn't you?”

She blushed, and smiled along with him.

“Absolutely!”

The first band—called _Linka_ —came on-stage and the coin was flipped.

“Laugh!” the announcer called. “Good luck!”

And they played.

And they were _okay_.

Their song was about a rough day at work and had a pretty catchy beat. The singer had a great voice, and she might've blown everyone away if she'd been trying to make them cry. But Tadashi kept his eyes on the judges and—to his spiteful delight—they never made it past a lukewarm smile.

One threat down.

The second band got 'laugh' again, and they did better. They were an obvious novelty band called _Hair—_ one built entirely around making people laugh. They all had big, bushy beards, and their song— _You Should Con_ _s_ _ider Having Sex With a_ _Hirsute_ _Man—_ was some high-energy 80's synth rock. The judges laughed along from the very start. So did the crowd.

“They were singing that one for you, Asahi!” Nishinoya said in between the sets, and Asahi tried to hide his goatee behind his hand. It was too late, though. Tadashi saw a pair of older and very pretty girls turn at Nishinoya's voice, and they whispered to each other about the shaggy giant standing nearby. Tanaka slapped Asahi on the back, grinning.

Band number three got 'cry', and played a mournful-sounding song that fell flat. The guitarist and the drummer both seemed to think they were the ones setting the tempo, and left the singer behind a few times. The whole song was like being stuck in traffic—crawl, then rush to catch up, then crawl again.

The judges thanked them, and the crowd clapped politely.

And then it was time for band number four.

“Karasuno!” Daichi said. “Let them hear you!”

Taiga, Kyoshi and Kagame strode on to the stage, and Tadashi _whooped_ as loud as he could. Everyone on the team did, too, and the ripple of excitement made its way through the entire crowd. It was the loudest welcome any of the bands had gotten so far, and Taiga brought himself right to the edge of the stage. He raised both his hands, waving them in long arcs, conducting the crowd like they were an orchestra.

He looked so _tall_ up there. So calm and cool, like a rock star.

It made Tadashi want to scream—over his team, over the entire crowd, through the microphones and speakers until everyone across Sendai could hear it—' _that's my boyfriend!'_.

“Welcome to the stage,” the announcer said, taking up a spot next to Taiga. “And what do you three call yourselves?”

Taiga had to stand on tip-toes to reach the mic, and the cheekiest smile broke out on his face as he answered.

“We're the Pinch Servers!”

“The Pinch Servers!” the announcer said.

Tadashi froze mid-clap as all of his teammates turned to him. All around, the crowd was still jostling as they applauded and cheered. But in the middle of all that was an island of very still, very curious Karasuno students. Tanaka and Nishinoya had open-mouthed grins on their faces, like they weren't sure whether they were allowed to burst out laughing or not. The third-years seemed to be biting their bottom lips, eyebrows up, looking between themselves and Tadashi.

And Tadashi waited for the horror to hit.

For the ice to spread through his innards.

For the ball of lead to gather in his gut and make him sink into the ground.

 _One_ second. Two. Three...

Still nothing.

Then, surprising everyone, Tsukki spoke first.

“They used the name I suggested,” he said. “Excellent.”

And before anyone could say anything about how that didn't make any kind of sense, the announcer was talking again. Everyone's attention was drawn by force back to the stage, and Tadashi felt the eyes on him shift away one-by-one.

Except Tsukki's.

Tsukki held his gaze, and held up a hand with three fingers.

“Three you owe me, now,” he whispered.

Tadashi bowed his head in a deep, deep nod.

Somehow, the anxiety and dread that he'd been bracing for never came.

Interesting.

“Okay, Pinch Servers,” the announcer said. “Here we go. Flip!”

The coin flitted through the air and then _tinkled_ across the stage, until eventually it came to rest right at Taiga's foot. He looked down, and called it out for the crowd.

“Laugh!” he said.

“Laugh!” the announcer confirmed. “We're a lucky, laughing lot this evening, aren't we! Take it away, Pinch Servers. Maaaaake uuuussssss laaaaaugh!”

The announcer ducked out of the way as Taiga settled himself into the piano. He cracked his knuckles in front of him, tapped on the mic, and gave Kyoshi and Kagame a thumbs up. They returned it, and a hush settled over the crowd.

This was it.

“This song's called _A True Romantic_.”

His hands exploded over the keyboard—a run from one end to the other that trilled and embellished in all kinds of directions before it settled into a sweet, gentle rhythm. Tadashi's eyes widened. He'd never heard Taiga play like that before. His heart fluttered as Taiga leaned in to the mic, and Kagame joined the ensemble with some deep bass.

 

_Oh dear, thank you for the roses._

_Thank you for the wine._

_Thank you for the beautiful place for us to dine._

_Yes I love the book you bought me,_

_You know just how to court me._

_Boy you've really outdone yourself this time._

 

The tempo kicked up a little, and Kyoshi joined in on the drums.

 

_Now brace yourself, it's my turn._

_And I know it's often true,_

_That the romance in our lives can come one-sidedly from you._

_But this year I've been trying,_

_I promise I'm not lying._

_I'm sure I got it right this time, and my gifts will have you smiling._

 

Tadashi knew just from the smirk on Taiga's face that the twist was about to kick in. Kyoshi slammed her snare drum, and Kagame and Taiga charged into the next verse.

 

_That girl you hate at work? I got her fired!_

_I called and said she steals from the til._

_Accountants, man, they sure can get pedantic!_

_Darling, all for you! I'm a true romantic._

 

Tadashi and all of Karasuno laughed—so hard it made it hard to gauge whether everyone else thought it was funny. Tadashi knew he was biased. _Everything_ Taiga said was funny to him. He forced himself to look at the judges, trying to read their faces.

They were smiling!

 

_That dog that barks next door to us? I sold it!_

_To a petless family in the USA._

_Shipped it in a box 'cross the Atlantic!_

_So you see, this year I'm such a true romantic!_

 

One of the judges laughed!

 

_Ohhh you're not a morning person,_

_and you're late for work sometimes._

_Well not anymore, baby!_

_I took down all the stop signs!_

 

And the longer the song went, the more ridiculous Taiga's romantic acts became. Tadashi could hear the rest of the crowd, now, even over the team's enthusiastic laughter. He could see the judges grinning at each other and writing little notes on their notepads. Tadashi could feel his heart racing a thousand miles an hour.

They could win _._ They were going to win!

 

_You know the bank won't lend us money? Well I robbed it!_

_I made off with, like, eighty million yen._

_I just can't stop this flow of love-lorn antics._

_This is just what happens when you're a true romantic._

 

On it went for two more minutes. Verses about a nagging mother in law he made 'go away', about kidnapping a famous writer to make him finish his book series faster, about calling in bomb threats so they could have the whole airplane to themselves. With each one, a new judge joined in the others' laughter. The entire panel took it by turns as they found different romantic gestures funniest, slumping into little shoulder-shaking gasps.

The song eventually built to a huge crescendo, and then crashed back down to the gentle sound it began with. Kyoshi pocketed her sticks and Kagame backed off on the bass, leaving just Taiga.

 

_Now darling, don't feel bad about your presents._

_Just because they aren't as good as mine._

_No I promise you I'm not being sarcastic!_

_But maybe next year, be a little more romantic?_

 

Taiga stood up the second he played his last note, and the crowd burst into applause and cheers. Tadashi felt his teammates' shouts and whoops from beside and behind him, and tried to add his voice to it. It was like shouting into a thunderstorm.

Taiga, Kyoshi and Kagame took a quick bow before they walked off stage, leaving a panel of grinning judges behind them. Tadashi's entire torso felt sore from the laughter, the shouting, and that strangling feeling in his chest from seeing Taiga on stage.

Had everyone in the crowd fallen so utterly in love?

“Only two bands to go!” Nishinoya said. “Nobody better! That's my little cousin for you!”

“Fantastic!” Suga said. “I loved the verse about kidnapping the tiger from the zoo!”

“That was my favorite!” Daichi agreed. “ _It's waiting in our bedroom, and it's hungry._ Ha!”

“Very funny,” Tsukki said, deadpan, right at Tadashi's left side. That sort of praise from Tsukki was almost worth a million yen on its own.

The crowd was still buzzing a full minute after Taiga left, and Tadashi buzzed along with them. He couldn't think properly. It was like thoughts and feelings had all spilled into the same big pot, and it was boiling over inside him. Excitement and anticipation would bubble up as the word _money!_ whizzed through his head, and his stomach would go all tight. Then the word _Taiga_ , and his heart would scamper about as he tried to separate memories of last night from the image of him up on stage, commanding the crowd.

He was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care. He had a feeling this new Yamaguchi Grin didn't look out of place.

The next band went by in a blur. The coin came up 'cry', and they didn't stand a chance. It could've been the saddest song in history and nobody would've sniffled. The mood was too charged after so many 'laugh' songs in a row.

They left the stage after a good performance, and the crowd cheered for them, but Tadashi wasn't worried. Instead, he craned his neck around the crowd. Taiga said he'd be allowed to watch from down here once he was done. He ought to be along soon.

The sixth and final band took the stage soon after, and Tadashi barely heard them announce their name: _Ladyboots_. There were only two of them – a girl (in big black boots) at a keyboard, and an older man on violin. The toss went up and came back 'cry', and they launched into their song.

Or...more like _tip-toed_ in to it.

He wasn't listening closely at first. Too occupied with the search for Taiga. But the longer the song's weeping intro went on, and the more the violin seemed to _wail_ out its opening bars, the more Tadashi couldn't look away.

And then her voice. God, her _voice_.

Like an opera singer, but _sultry_ . Not in his gayest moment could Tadashi deny her voice was sexy. And expressive. _Manipulatively_ expressive, like she was trying to make you feel bad for something you'd never done. And it was working.

It was funny how emotions worked. It was like a certain percentage was just base 'feeling', and then the top two or three percent determined what _sort_ of feeling it was. A minute ago, Taiga was that final few percent and Tadashi had never felt such joy.

Now, it was _Ladyboots,_ and the feeling changed completely.

The song was a letter to her daughter. About how she loved her, and so did her entire family, and that would never change no matter how old they got, no matter how far from each other they were.

And right then, Tadashi was launched back into the youth center's conference room. With Oikawa opposite him, telling the tale of Iwaizumi and his family, and how not everyone was so lucky as him to have unconditional love.

And... _damn it_ , he felt like he might cry.

All that feeling, funneled in a new direction. Past memories of Oikawa's tale, and of his tearful chat with Taiga that morning, and of his mother and father, and the way he'd run from Nishinoya that night...

 _Ladyboots_ swelled underneath his thoughts; the singer crooning to her baby child about her brothers and sisters and friends.

 

_You won't understand, but you will learn one day,_

_That wherever you are and whatever you face,_

_These are the people who make you feel safe in this world._

 

He tried not to, but he couldn't help it. He looked to his right. At the thirteen people who'd come all the way to Sendai for no other reason than he'd asked them to.

He looked at the judges.

Red eyes and faces.

_DAMN it._

The very last band of the day, and they'd come to win.

The song swept to its climactic finish, and the crowd didn't cheer right away. It was like they'd all agreed they should leave space for a respectful silence. Tadashi swallowed against the little lump in his throat, and joined in as, bit by bit, the crowd started cascading into applause.

 _Ladyboots_ were leaving the stage when Taiga finally found his way to Tadashi. There were people all around, and Tadashi was still so caught up in _Ladyboots_ ' song, that he didn't have time to say anything. All he felt were hands wrapped suddenly around his neck and chest, his legs straining under the weight of two people.

Tadashi grabbed hold of him by reflex.

With the song still fresh in his head, he held on tight.

They spun on the spot, and Taiga laughed right at his ear.

“That went super well!” he said, and then, straight away:

“Oh, shit. Everyone's here.”

He let go immediately, and stepped down to the ground. Tadashi instinctively reached for him.

“Yuu?” Taiga said. “Tanaka? Is _all_ Karasuno here?”

The answer didn't come straight away, and Tadashi could see why. The team were all looking at him, the same half-surprised, half-confused looks on their faces as before. Tadashi still had his hand on Taiga's back.

Again, he waited for the terror to hit.

...any second.

It usually _always_ hit by now.

“Surprise,” Tsukki said, stepping forward.

And Tadashi's jaw dropped as his friend leaned down and grabbed Taiga in a tight, close hug. Of all the things that could've happened on the spectrum of _possible things_ just now, it was one of the last he expected. Tsukki didn't hug.

Tsukki _didn't hug_.

Tadashi stuttered, but words wouldn't come out.

Tsukki let go of Taiga and stepped back.

“We came to support you,” he said. And then, when he turned back to the group and saw them all agape at what they'd just seen, he turned on his most dangerous sneer. “What? Taiga is a hugger. We're just being polite.”

Tadashi looked at Taiga, who looked back at him.

Then to his Karasuno team mates, who looked back at him.

“We're here to repay the favor,” Tadashi said. Strongly. Clearly. No trembling. No squeaking or voice-breaking. “For cheering us on at the exhibition match.”

His words kicked everyone back into action.

Nishinoya rushed forward and grabbed his cousin around the neck with one arm.

“My talented little cousin!” he said, drawing the looks of everyone around them. “You're a sure thing to win. Nobody else came close!”

Taiga, his head buried somewhere beneath Noya's armpit, tried to protest.

“That last band were pretty good, cousin. So was _Hair_.”

“Rubbish!” Tanaka said, striding forth to slap Taiga on the back. And he threw a tiny, _tiny_ side-glance at Tadashi before he carried on. “It's _The Pinch Servers_ all the way!”

Taiga went around the group, introducing everyone to the band and getting acquainted with the team. Tadashi kept himself to the sidelines for most of it. He was happy enough to watch on as everyone took their turn gushing over Taiga's performance.

It was only fair they got to love him a little bit, too.

It wasn't long before the announcer was back on the microphone, and everyone hushed to listen in. Taiga broke away from the team, and he and Kyoshi and Kagame came to stand just in front of Tadashi.

“Here we go,” Taiga said.

Tadashi nudged him from behind.

“Okay, folks!” the announcer called. “The judges have tallied their tears and counted their giggles! It's time to find out who moved them the most! Will it be to tears? Will it be to laughter? I have the answer in this envelope!”

The crowd cheered, and Tadashi could feel himself tightening up all over. He believed in Taiga. Their song was amazing. But _Ladyboots_ was really good, too. And _Hair_ was an outside chance. All his confidence and belief didn't change the fact it wasn't him making the call.

All he could do now was hope.

“Drumroll please!” the announcer said, and the sound of a drumroll was piped through the speakers. “The winners of the Showdown at the Jozenji Street Jazz Festival, and the prizemoney of one million yen...is!”

Tadashi held his breath.

“ _Ladyboots_! With _Song for my Daughter_!”

The breath flooded out of him—hot and fast.

 _Damn_ it!

“And our runner up: _The Pinch Servers_!”

Taiga bounced on the spot, and Tadashi reached out to clap him on the shoulder. Runners up! It was still worth a great deal of money. Not quite enough to save the stage band, but a good start! Taiga grinned at him, and turned back to head toward the stage.

...when the announcer came back.

“Oh,” he said. “Wait.”

Tadashi's heart skipped.

Up on stage, one of the judges was having a frantic word in the announcer's ear. The announcer was looking at his sheet of paper, pointing at it, a look of pure horror on his face.

What the...

“Ladies and gentlemen, I'm so sorry,” he said.

Tadashi gripped Taiga's elbow.

“I've made a terrible mistake.”

Taiga turned and gripped the hand on his elbow.

“I was supposed to announce the runner-up, _then_ the winner. I got it backwards, I'm so sorry. Please welcome up to the stage our runners-up this year, _Ladyboots—”_

Taiga's other hand grabbed hold of Tadashi's shirt, and Tadashi grabbed _that_ arm by the shoulder. They were a tangle of hands, their knuckles white from gripping so hard.

“—and our winners, _The Pinch Servers_.”

Taiga laughed.

Tadashi laughed.

And jumped.

Up and down, at the same time. A little closer to each other each time. Until eventually they were standing face to face, arms around each others' waists, only inches apart.

Then there was a beat.

A tiny, almost unnoticeable beat where nothing happened. A fraction of a second where Tadashi had time to think, and make a decision. Just long enough for him to remember where he was. Who was there. To consider what was about to happen and put a stop to it.

It lasted less than half a second, but this moment was everything. He'd never get another one like it. This ridiculous moment of disappointment followed _so quickly_ by delight. This sitcom, rom-com mix up that had walked them through every kind of emotion, only to shove them into a fit of joy at the very last second.

Caught in that moment, he made a choice.

He shut his eyes. And it was _him_ who closed the distance.

He kissed Taiga, and Taiga kissed right back. He could feel Taiga's smile pressing against his, barely contained by each other's lips.

He could feel eyes on him, and knew the team was watching.

But the terror and fear and dread he'd been waiting for all day—ever since he'd led them to the park, and since the band had called themselves _The Pinch Servers_ , and Taiga had hugged him, and now this kiss—still didn't come. Before he was even done with the kiss, he knew it wasn't going to.

They came apart, and Taiga was staring at him.

So was the team.

And then, for the third time that day, Tsukki surprised everyone.

“It's quite common in Sri Lanka for friends to share a platonic kiss like this,” he said in his most ' _I've been reading up on this'_ voice. “Isn't it, Taiga? I think it's very responsible of you to try and keep the tradition alive even though you haven't lived there in a long time. Too many men are—”

With every word Tsukki said, Tadashi's heart swelled. His smile crept wider. It was nothing short of an act of heroism. Taking a bullet for Tadashi wouldn't have made Tsukki feel as uncomfortable, though, and that made this _super_ heroic. He deserved a cape and mask.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi held out a palm. “It's okay.”

And he turned to address his teammates.

The teammates he'd invited here to prove to Taiga—to _himself—_ that he was more confident, now. But not only that. He'd invited them here because he trusted them. Because, like he'd discovered in a fit of tears at 3am that morning, he wanted to be honest. He wanted them to know the real Tadashi.

And if he was going to start with baby steps, it might as well be twelve at once.

Taiga wrapped his hand in his.

“Ah, so, everyone...” he started.

“Ohhhh!” Nishinoya and Tanaka said at the same time.

“Nishinoya, Tanaka! Quiet!” Daichi said. “Go on, Yamaguchi.”

Nishinoya and Tanaka leaned forward, their faces set in open-mouthed, expectant grins. The sort of down-the-camera, 'I know what he's about to say!' look you saw in TV mockumentaries. They were waiting for whatever he said next to set them alight.

Tadashi took a deep breath.

“Taiga and I are, ah...a couple.”

The word 'gay' seemed really hard to say, so he left it out.

It didn't need saying, anyhow.

He could see it in everyone's eyes.

The complete, total, utter _lack_ of surprise.

“I knew!” Nishinoya said, dropping to his knees. “Didn't I say, Ryu! Singing lessons? Singing!”

Tanaka burst out laughing.

“Singing lessons!” he said, and _actually_ slapped his knee.

Tadashi flushed red as he remembered that night. It probably _was_ too much to ask that Nishinoya would accept such a scrounged-together story.

Did that mean he and Tanaka had known since all the way back then? _Weeks_ ago?

“Pinch Servers?” the announcer said. “Are you out there?”

Taiga didn't move.

He clung on to Tadashi's hand, and Tadashi clung back.

Behind the cackling second years, Daichi and Suga and Asahi all gave each other the same look. It was the look parents give each other when their child says something grown-up for the first time. That look of 'ah, see? He'll be fine'.

“We had an inkling,” Suga said. “Thank you for telling us!”

“Yeah,” Asahi said, rubbing the back of his head and smiling. “We didn't know whether to ask or what we should say. I was stressing about it for days. Thank you for putting it in the open.”

“If anyone gives you any trouble,” Daichi said, “you come straight to me. Or Suga, or Asahi, or Shimizu. We'll put a stop to it, don't worry.”

Tadashi wanted to answer them, but he couldn't say anything. All the positivity and support and _friendship_ , hitting him in wave after wave as they all took turns to tell him it was okay...

'Lost for words' didn't quite cover it.

“This is so cute!” Yachi said, eyes twinkling.

Beside her, Shimizu smiled her gentle smile.

“I'm glad you feel safe to tell us,” she said.

“Well I didn't know!” Hinata said, balling his fists and looking at Tadashi like he was a celebrity. “Truly, Yamaguchi? Just like Oikawa!”

Tadashi laughed.

The comparison caught him by surprise. Even though he knew what Hinata meant—that in the most basic way, yes, they were both gay—he couldn't help but feel it was just a tiny bit more true now that it was yesterday.

“Just like Oikawa,” he said.

And he was proud to say so.

Kageyama grunted and nodded.

“I knew,” he said.

“Huh!?” Hinata said, rounding on him. “No, you didn't! How did _you_ know?”

“Because I am good at reading people.”

“Are _not_!”

“Am _too!_ ”

Tadashi watched as they launched into another argument. Some things in life were so constant—so _certain—_ that seeing them had a way of making everything seem okay.

“Are the Pinch Servers out there anywhere?” the announcer said. “Have they gone home?”

“Whoops,” Taiga said. “I better go.”

“Yes,” Tadashi said, rubbing his arm. “Go!”

“Are you...good, though?” Taiga said.

Tadashi grinned. Not at Taiga, but at the flapping first years still fighting. This new grin that stretched for days without any effort at all. This Yamaguchi Grin, mark two.

Hinata and Kageyama were arguing with each other.

Situation normal.

Life goes on, just like always.

He turned his grin on Taiga.

“I'm good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhhhh snap, son! This chapter took forever and it's long and ranging and finnicky, but I hope you enjoyed it nontheless. Next week we begin PART FOUR, the final run of chapters before this story wraps up!
> 
> Some fun facts about the songs in this chapter!
> 
> 'HAIR' is based on a band here in Australia called THE BEARDS. The song 'YOU SHOULD CONSIDER HAVING SEX WITH A HIRSUIT MAN' is literally just The Beards song, 'YOU SHOULD CONSIDER HAVING SEX WITH A BEARDED MAN'. [Listen Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KenydTXfzvo/)! 
> 
> LADYBOOTS singer is modeled after aussie singer KATE MILLER-HEIDKE, and the song she's singing is TIM MINCHIN'S 'WHITE WINE IN THE SUN', which makes me cry literally every time I listen to it. If you feel like being sad, [you can listen to that here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9D1S-2Vx6NI)! 
> 
> Finally: I GOT SOME WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL FAN ART from tumblr user [mundo-baka](http://mundo-baka.tumblr.com/)! It's [Taiga! And he is ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE!](http://i.imgur.com/sf4jMgy.jpg) Which is only appropriate because I mean...those are the two words that describe Taiga best.
> 
> Thanks guys! I'm off, and I'll see you next week for PART FOUR!


	23. Part Four: The Karasuno Guide to Coming Out to your Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON TO PART FOUR!
> 
> This part is titled 'OUT!', which might be the most creative thing ever, I'm not sure. I'll have to look it up.
> 
> This week: An illustration by me! We haven't had one in a while and I was hankering to paint Yams, so here he is. My painting's gotten a lot better since I first started this story, so hopefully I can knock together some better pieces before the end.

“Yamaguchi, nice serve!”

Tadashi pressed the ball between his palms, lobbed it into the air, and struck it with the heel of his right hand. He felt that 'pop' as it made contact, felt the bump against his bones. It bobbled its way to the net, kissed the tape, and flopped awkwardly to the ground on the other side. Hinata, committed to his dive, crashed down beside it with a _gwahh!_

“All right!” Nishinoya yelled.

“Ha!” Tanaka said, trying to point at everyone on the other side of the net at once. “Looks like Team Sleeveless will get its third victory this week!”

Nishinoya and Tanaka—their short-sleeves each rolled up to the shoulders so it looked like they were wearing a training singlet—high-fived each other, then spun on the spot and flexed their arms. Like they were posing for a photograph in Skinny Arms Monthly, or Sinew Magazine. Tadashi hid his laugh behind his hand.

“Can you stop trying to make 'Team Sleeveless' happen?” Tsukki said, sleeves rolled down like normal.

“Seriously,” Suga said, arms also sleeved.

“Spoilsports!” Tanaka said, whipping around to point at Tadashi. “Yamaguchi, back me up!”

Tadashi looked down at his bare, freckled shoulders and tucked sleeves, then threw an apologetic smile at his other three teammates.

“It's...just easier to serve like this.”

“Traitor,” Tsukki said.

“That's our boy,” Tanaka said, grinning.

Tadashi scooped the ball from the ground, and puffed out a little breath while he was at it. It'd been three days since he'd come out to the team at the Jozenji Jazz Festival, and every little sign that things were normal was like a warm blanket around him.

He'd expected _some_ changes. Tiny, practical, almost-reasonable things like treading on eggshells when they talked about it, or some shyness in the club room while everyone got changed. But so far?

Not a thing.

Tanaka and Nishinoya still spent most of their time in the club room as half-naked as ever. Nobody thought twice about slipping out of their school uniforms and into their practice gear. Volleyball was still volleyball, and he was still their pinch server. Still invited along for pork buns after practice. Still a part of—and the occasional butt of—team jokes and pranks.

Everything was different, but nothing had changed.

He felt like a part of him never left Sendai.

“One more point!” Nishinoya yelled.

Tadashi stood and lined up his serve.

A deep breath, toss, and...

“Yes!” Tanaka said as the ball found the floor on the other side. He rushed to Yamaguchi, both hands up. “Team Sleeveless!”

And they slapped hands so hard, his palms stung.

His jump-float serve had clinched the practice game. A serve that, only a few months ago, was a thirty percent chance of even making it to the other side of the net. Now, his teammates winced when he stood on the service line.

Tadashi looked at his tingling hands and thought back to Taiga's words that naked morning in Sendai.

_The same thing goes for being out. You start off small, and you get stronger._

He curled his hands in to fists.

He was on a roll, now.

Maybe it was time to get stronger.

 

***

 

Practice was almost over when Tadashi made the mistake of being overheard. He’d only meant to casually mention it to Tsukki—not even seriously! More as a vague idea, or a what-if kind of thing. But he’d spoken just a little too loudly while Tanaka was walking just a little too close-by, and everything snowballed from there.

“I’m thinking,” Tadashi said, as it turns out _way too loudly_ , “it’s about time I came out to my parents.”

Tsukki didn’t have a chance to speak before Tanaka swept in, like the gale that heralds a hurricane.

“You haven’t told your parents, Yamaguchi?” he said in his Tanaka voice. The voice that could travel miles into the air and wake sleeping passengers on overhead planes. The voice that could pierce six feet of earth and wake the blissfully sleeping dead. “Why not?”

Tadashi froze up.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer. It’s that he had no idea where or how to start. Tanaka wasn’t an idiot, but he also _probably_ didn’t know much about what it was like to come out of the closet. He wondered if he should—

“You still have to tell your parents?” Nishinoya said, appearing from nowhere beside Tanaka. Tadashi jumped as he noticed the tiny libero. “Ah, I see. Well it’s difficult, isn’t it?”

“It is?” Tanaka said.

“Of course it is!” Nishinoya said. “Taiga told me about it once. He said it was like having to admit to something, even though he’d done nothing wrong.”

“Ohh,” Tanaka said. “I suppose that would be difficult.”

Tadashi held out his hands.

“Oh, it’s fine. Honestly, I—”

“What’s difficult?” Suga said, toweling the sweat from the back of his neck.

“Yamaguchi. He's coming out to his parents,” Nishinoya said.

“What?!” Tadashi said. “No, I—”

“Ahhh,” Suga said, nodding. “I see. Well, we’re here to help, of course. Tell us what you need.”

“Suga, really, I don’t—”

“Who are we helping?” Daichi said, Asahi at his shoulder.

“Yamaguchi. He's coming out to his parents,” Suga said.

Tadashi’s heart started pounding on his ribs. He felt like he’d meant to dip his toe into a swimming pool, but had overbalanced and fallen right in, clothes and all. He looked at Tsukki, who sent him a shrug. What could either of them do against a force of nature like the Karasuno High School volleyball club?

“I’m really not—” he started.

“I know what I’d do,” Tanaka said, thumb pressed to his chest. “Same thing I do whenever I have news I don’t want to tell my parents. I make them think I’ve done something really bad. Like, _so_ bad that they start to panic. Then when I finally admit the not-as-bad truth, they’re so relieved they forget to be angry.”

Tadashi's mouth hung open as he imagined it. _Mom and dad, I've got some bad news._ What would he even say? 'I got a girl pregnant' seemed a little bit _too_ ironic. He didn't have the look of someone who took even the most recreational of drugs. And they'd flat out never believe him if he went full Bohemian Rhapsody. _Mama, just killed a man..._

“Misdirection,” Nishinoya said, nodding like a teacher who’d just taken a good answer to a hard question. “Good strategy.”

And then, _another_ voice.

“Good strategy for what?” Hinata said.

Kageyama was with him.

Tadashi sank a little deeper into that pool.

“For when Yamaguchi comes out to his parents tonight,” Daichi said. “We’re brainstorming.”

“We…are?” Tadashi said. “And it’s not tonight, it’s—”

“I’ll check the internet!” Hinata said, racing for his bag.

“Oh, good idea,” Suga said, following.

“Guys!” Tadashi said. “This is really nice of you—”

“It’s nothing!” Asahi said, grinning his giant’s grin. “Are you worried about how they’ll react?”

Tadashi’s protests caught in his throat as the question took him by surprise. He hadn't really thought about it. His mother would _definitely_ cry, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. She cried whenever she watched wildlife documentaries and a predator ate something fluffy. His father...

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Not my mother, at least. Dad’s always been a strict guy but he’d never do anything bad. I don’t think, anyway.”

And he shook his head.

“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t. But that’s not the poin—”

“It wouldn’t matter anyway!” Nishinoya said. “If it were me, I’d go in there with my chin held high. And I’d say ‘Mom and Dad, I’m gay! And if you’ve got a problem with that, I’m _right_ here. And so are both my fists!”

“Nice, Noya,” Tanaka said, nodding.

Tadashi wondered just what the threshold for a fistfight was in the Nishinoya household. Did they threaten to fight each other only about big, important things like this? Or was changing the channel on the TV also grounds for a punch-up?

“Yamaguchi!” Hinata shouted his name as he scampered back to the group. “Look at this! This guy on youtube did an entire song and dance number for his parents! It’s really cool, look!”

Hinata thrust the phone screen in front of Tadashi’s face, and he glazed over as light and sound cascaded out of it. Tanaka and Nishinoya burst out laughing.

“Trust me,” Nishinoya said. “Singing is not Yamaguchi’s strong suit.”

“Oh god,” Tadashi said. “Guys, look, this is all very—”

“Here!” Suga said, returning with his phone in hand. “There’s a web forum for mothers whose sons have come out to them. Like a support network. There are a _ton_ of threads here with coming out stories, and how they did it. Most of them seem to like the straightforward, honest approach.”

Suga held his phone next to Hinata’s, like Tadashi might be able to look at two screens at once if he used one eye for each.

How many coming out methods was that, now? Four?

“You could send them a text,” Kageyama said. “I’d probably just send them a text.”

_Five_.

Hinata glared at Kageyama.

“I bet you would.”

Tadashi was just about to protest again—to start _another_ sentence, maybe even one that he’d finish this time. But just as he was about to speak, and tell everyone he was flattered, and it was really nice of them to be so concerned but they needn’t bother...

He finally saw them all.

Ten minutes before the end of practice. The Spring High preliminaries just days away. Easily an hour past dinner time. And here, heads buried in their phones, putting together the Karasuno Guide to Coming Out to your Parents, were ten straight guys.

He looked at Tsukki, who was trying hard to hide a smile. A tiny, tiny smile that was only one part sass and nine parts actual amusement. He raised the corner of one eyebrow at Tadashi—his expressions only ever measured in millimeters—and shook his head gently. As if to say _it_ is _kind of sweet, isn’t it?_

“What about Taiga?” Daichi said. “You could invite him over for dinner, and just introduce him as your boyfriend. Like what you did with us. That worked fine, right? Just carry on like normal, and they’ll understand. They’re your parents.”

Suga smiled.

“Most of the mothers on the forum already suspected,” he said. “Maybe Daichi is right.”

“Ah, no,” Tadashi shook his head.

Maybe it was true for a lot of people, but his parents didn’t suspect. They just didn’t. He could tell. If he thought they already knew, this'd be easier. If it was just a matter of confirming their suspicions, there'd be no need to stress out.

But it wasn’t.

A lot of little things gave it away. The microscopic assumptions they made every day, the way they spoke to him, the way they spoke to other people about him…

They didn’t think he was hiding anything.

Certainly nothing like this.

“They don’t suspect,” he said. “I can’t explain why but…they just don’t.”

“Well,” Nishinoya said, his face twisted into the most serious frown. He arched his back and folded his arms across his chest. “If anything goes wrong, you call me and Ryu. We’ll be there in no time to beat up the bad guys. Right, Ryu?”

Tanaka stood by Noya and flexed his arms, like a half-sized bodybuilder.

“Leave it to us,” Tanaka said. “Team Sleeveless looks out for its own.”

Tadashi laughed.

“There’s no bad guys,” he said. “They’re my mom and dad. And I mean…like I said, I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just an awkward conversation to have. Until just now I didn’t realize there were so many ways to do it!”

He wouldn’t have thought a room full of volleyball players would be able to come up with so many. Tanaka and his misdirection, like the gay equivalent of sleight of hand. Nishinoya’s idea of direct confrontation—say it loud, put up your fists. Suga’s insistence on straightforward honesty. Hinata’s immediate want to get all flashy and razzle-dazzle with it. Kageyama’s cowardly but _efficient_ text messaging. Daichi’s ‘don’t make a fuss’ approach…

How were you supposed to know which one was right?

“And anyway!” he said, hands outward. “I wasn’t really planning on doing it soon. I was just thinking out loud. Sort of…psyching myself up for it.”

“Well,” Suga said, “we’re here to help however we can. But there’s no substitute for experience. How did Taiga do it?”

Tadashi opened his mouth, then stopped.

Oh yeah.

How _did_ Taiga do it?

 

***

 

“I sort of didn’t,” Taiga said, and he laughed.

That infectious laugh that tickled Tadashi from the inside-out and made him want to laugh, too. They were walking side-by-side, shoulders close enough to touch, through the lamp-lit Karasuno streets.

“I remember you telling Oikawa your parents already knew,” Tadashi said. “Was it just like what happened with him? You didn’t need to tell them because it was just…understood?”

Taiga snorted.

“Sort of,” he said. “You sound impressed.”

“No, not impressed,” he said.

He could only imagine what it was like, though. To be so open about who you were that, when it came time to make these big announcements, they weren’t even a bump in the road. Taiga hadn’t lived his life like Tadashi had—keeping things bottled up, clamping down on every other sentence just in case it was wrong.

“More jealous, I guess,” he said. “I wish it was as easy for me.”

And Taiga sighed.

A long, drawn-out sigh.

A sound Tadashi hadn’t heard from Taiga before.

His heart skipped as he waited for the big huff of breath to fizzle out. He watched Taiga closely—his eyes fixed on the pavement, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched up.

“Can I tell you something weird?” he said.

Tadashi felt panic in his belly.

“You can tell me anything.”

“Everyone thinks the same thing,” he said. “That coming out when everyone else already knows must be the greatest. And I mean…I’m sure it is for some people. But not for everyone.”

Tadashi inched closer to Taiga so their shoulders rubbed together. He didn’t feel any push back, and nor did Taiga pull away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, no, don’t apologize,” he said. “It’s nothing to do with you. I’m only saying be careful what you wish for. Just because it seems easy doesn’t mean it’s the best.”

It made Tadashi anxious to the pit of his stomach that _Taiga_ , the most confident and sure-of-himself boy he'd ever met, could be shaken up by coming out. It was an angry kind of anxiety, too—why the hell did it have to be so complicated? Why did it need an entire team of volleyball players just to sort through the options?

He inched the conversation forward.

“Do you…I mean, can you talk about it, or…?”

Taiga laughed again, and his smile was back.

Tadashi felt like blowing out a hundred-PSI breath of relief.

“It’s all good now, of course,” Taiga said. “But back before I came out—it was only last year—I was pretty terrified. I mean, kind of like what I imagine you’re feeling now, right? We all know what it’s like. It’s this little doubt in your head that goes something like ‘I know my parents love me. I know they won’t react badly. But _what if they do anyway_? What if I’m underestimating how much of their love is based on me being straight, you know? What if they don’t even realize it themselves?' It’s a ton of worrying and stress.”

Tadashi swallowed.

He identified with every word, phrase, syllable and punctuation mark Taiga had just said.

“So I spent weeks building up. Except I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. It took _such_ a long time to find the bravery, I swear. Weeks and weeks and weeks. So when I couldn't keep it in any longer, I was a puddle. I was just so scared.”

Tadashi brushed Taiga’s shoulder again.

Even though they'd silently agreed not to hug or hold hands where anyone could see them, he _really_ wanted to slip his arm around Taiga's shoulder. That shoulder that was exactly the right height to fit in his arm pit, where Taiga could lean into his chest so they turned into a four-legged, two-hearted creature.

“And then I did it. I gritted my teeth and I _did_ it. My voice was shaking and all that. It’s a wonder I didn’t faint, ha. And then after all that worry and stress and…I don’t know, pain. My parents told me this wasn't news.”

Tadashi didn’t want to admit he still couldn't see the problem. He knew there had to _be_ one, but he was having trouble spotting it. So far this sounded exactly like what he wanted.

He waited for Taiga to carry on.

“They did the thing. The _yeah we know, so what do you want for dinner?_ thing. You've seen it in movies and stuff. I'm sure that's where they saw it, too. And it’s so cool of them. They thought they were doing what was best, and they sort of were. But at the same time, I felt weird.

“Dismissed. Or not dismissed, but _stupid_. Stupid for having worried so much when I didn’t need to. It made me feel like I had no reason to feel like I did for so long. But I _did_ have reason. Just because it all worked out doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard. And then it all just evaporated in a few seconds. We still haven’t talked much about it since.”

Taiga laughed again and shook his head.

“It’s not a _problem_ or anything. It’s not something I think about any more. I’m just saying that blowing past it like it’s no big deal doesn’t always suit you like you expect it will. I wanted to be taken seriously. I wanted to feel like I was in control of my own life. And then I'm told 'actually, no, you aren't. We're way ahead of you, and you're only just catching up.'”

He shrugged.

“Kinda sucks.”

And Tadashi could imagine it. His mother and father, reading the morning newspaper while he tearfully and anxiously confessed something so important and all-consuming for him…only to have them not even look up. He felt the way it stabbed him through the chest. How _cold_ it seemed. Maybe not on purpose, but the intent didn’t matter to him there. In the bleak kitchen of this imaginary future.

“God damn it,” he said, bumping into Taiga again. “This is really hard.

Taiga laughed again, and turned his grin on Tadashi.

“Yup,” he said. “Seems overwhelming, doesn’t it?”

“More than it did this morning.”

Taiga stretched his arms and let his fingers brush the back of Tadashi’s head. Just one of the many subtle ways they’d developed to show affection in public without causing a scene.

“Well,” Taiga said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think there’s a fancy way to sneak it past them. No matter how you do it, you’ve still gotta tell them, and they’ve still gotta react. That’s less to do with you than it is with them.”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “You’re right.”

And the image of his crying, but happy, mother wafted through his brain. Right next to the image of his bewildered, sort of put out, _maybe_ slightly annoyed father.

It made so much sense when Taiga said it.

The reaction wasn’t up to him. It was up to _them_.

“I think I’d like to get it over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Last week I said there were 7 chapters to go, but there are actually 8. So...NOW there are 7. We're going to grind this one to a halt on chapter 30 :D


	24. You Start Slow

_Think I'm coming out to my parents tonight. Any advice?_

 

Tadashi knew once he hit ‘send’ on this text, there’d be no going back. He’d have to go through with it because too many people knew he was planning it. Taiga knew. Tsukki knew. Most of the team knew.

He pressed send.

There.

Now Oikawa knew, too.

He set his phone down on his desk and slipped out of his wet, sweaty shirt, tossing it on top of his gym bag. Which reminded him! He snatched up the phone again and sent a quick follow up.

 

_Also we breezed through the qualifiers today. See you in October, Seijoh_ (╯°□°)╯ _︵_ _o_

 

Tadashi walked away from the phone and went to wash off the smell and stickiness of the two Spring High qualifying games. They won both games in straight sets and he’d only been called in to serve once. His tally was two points across both games.

He’d texted his mother about it, and she’d promised to make his favorite for dinner as a reward. He had no idea what she meant by his favorite, but it didn’t matter. Whatever she made would be it. They’d all sit down to eat together, his father would be happy the volleyball club was advancing, his mother would be beaming, proud, thrilled…

It was a good time to do it.

He toweled off and went back to his room.

Oikawa’s message was waiting for him.

 

_YAMA. I was wondering when I’d hear from you. You’re taking a big step, baby crow. Here's my only advice: this kind of announcement can make people do and say funny things in the heat of the moment. Try not to be too hard on them if that happens. Remember who they were right before you said anything. That’s the real them. GOOD LUCK, PINCH SERVER. Call me if you need to._

 

And a second message, only five words long,  _totally_ different in tone.

 

_And I WILL crush Karasuno._

 

Tadashi laughed and dropped the phone on his bed.

“Try your hardest, Angel of Aoba Johsai.”

He lay back on the bed and let the ceiling fan cool him back to room temperature after his bath. He listened to his heart in the silence. Normal pace. This whole week, it'd just been chilling in his chest, beating like he was watching a TV show. A  _boring_ TV show. He wondered if it'd stay like this once he was at the dinner table.

“Mom and dad,” he said into the quiet. “I have something to tell you.”

Still a steady beat.

“Mom and dad, I have something to tell you,” he said again.

Steady.

He closed his eyes.

“Mom and dad...”

 

***

 

“I have something to tell you,” he said.

_Now_ it was pounding. 

They'd finished eating—a delicious, rich tuna and rice dish Tadashi could swear he'd never had before—and had hit that post-meal lull where things went a bit quiet. The recap of today's games was done. His mother had gushed about how proud she was, and cried when he'd mentioned he scored two points, and assured him he was going to be the most famous volleyballer Japan had ever seen. His father had congratulated him, and asked what this meant for the national tournament, and did he think they'd go all the way.

They were happy, with full stomachs and rosy smiles, proud of him and what he’d achieved.

He followed Oikawa’s advice and took a mental snapshot of the moment.

This was how he wanted to remember them.

Just in case.

“Oh?” his mother said, a twinge of concern tainting her smile. “Is everything okay?”

He smiled for her.

He’d been planning this talk in his head for days now. He’d sketched out a rough outline of how he wanted to say it, and all the little lead-ins and anecdotes and reassurances he wanted to get in there. He even had some jokes ready to go.

On the spot, though—through the murk of anxiety in his head—it was all a jumble.

“Yes, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s just something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. Because I don’t want you to think I’m trying to hide it from you or anything like that.”

His heart was trying to make up for all that R&R through the week by working triple time. He’d hoped to keep his voice steady, but it wasn’t working. There was a tiny tremor in it that he couldn’t keep down.

It was that tremor that made his mother lean back in her chair.

It was the idea he might be hiding something that made his father lean forward in his.

“If there’s something you’re worried about, you can tell us,” he said.

Tadashi watched as his mother put her hand on his father’s back, and she banished the concern from her face. She reminded him  _so much_ of Michiko from the Sendai Youth Center. 

“We hear so little from you that isn’t volleyball,” she said. “Sometimes we wonder if that’s all there is to know!”

Tadashi drummed his fingers on the table.

He knew the next bit of his outline. It was a bit about how he’d been getting more confident lately and that he’d had a lot of time to think. About how he’d met some new people and had some new experiences and it’d changed him. He’d even planned to bring up Oikawa, and talk about how he’d come to look up to him.

But somehow it all seemed like too much.

The way they were looking at him, surprised he was being so open, happy he’d decided to let them in to a part of his life that wasn’t an after school club activity…

There was no reason to overdo it.

“I’m, ah…seeing someone,” he said.

And he saw the way his mother’s eyes lit up, and the way the corner of his father’s mouth twitched into a sly smile, and he  _knew_ he’d started in the wrong place. If he didn’t want this to seem like he was toying with them, or deliberately misleading them, he’d have to be quick.

“It’s a boy,” he said. “I’m going out with a boy.”

It seemed like everything in the house that could make a sound chose that moment to stop. The silence that flooded into the room after his words was a noise all of its own. If his heart wasn’t still beating like Kyoshi on a snare drum, he could swear time was frozen still.

His parents’ expressions were stuck.

He  _needed_ to fill this silence with something.

“Gay,” he said. “I’m gay. Mom and dad.”

His mother’s face didn’t so much as twitch.

But his father recovered quickly.

“Gay?” he said.

Tadashi nodded.

“Ah,” his father said, and nodded along with him. “Tsukishima?”

Tadashi couldn’t clamp down on the single bark of laughter that charged all the way from his stomach and out of his mouth. It was the one thing he wasn’t expecting his father to say. That, combined with the relief of not being screamed at…

“No,” he said. “Tsukki isn’t gay.”

“He didn’t strike me that way,” his father said, and he crossed one leg over the other. He reclined in his chair, abandoning his intense, leaning stare. “But then, neither did you.”

Tadashi blushed.

“I thought it would be a surprise. Is it a bad one?”

His father shook his head.

“No,” he said. “It’s just a surprise. Is everything okay with school? Who else knows—are you in trouble? Being bullied?”

“No, no,” Tadashi said. “Nothing like that. The opposite. I have a boyfriend now, and everyone on the team knows about it. It’s…really nice.”

“This boyfriend,” his father said. “He’s good to you? He treats you well?”

Tadashi laughed again.

Of all the ways he expected his father to react…

“Very well,” he said. “So well I can’t believe it sometimes. His name’s Nishinoya. Not the one on my team—his cousin, Taiga. I think you’d both like him.”

And it didn’t stop there.

Off they went, question after question as his father teased the whole truth out of Tadashi. How long has this been going on, is he happy, did he need anything from them, does this have something to do with the volleyball player who came out of the closet earlier this year. Tadashi answered him honestly and as genuinely as he could each time, thrilled to be having the conversation and  _completely_ weirded out by the fact he was having it with his father. And the further they got into it, the more relaxed Tadashi got, and the more he started to believe things might work out okay.

Except for one thing.

His mother still hadn’t said a word.

For every minute that went by without a sound, or a tear, or so much as a sodden breath, he started to edge closer to panic. It was right as he was explaining the ins-and-outs of how he was keeping himself safe from bullies at school that he couldn’t bear it any more.

“Mom,” he said. “You’ve been quiet. Are you…okay?”

“Oh!” she said, and she sat upright. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be distant. I’m just listening. It’s good to hear you talk like this.”

“Oh,” he said, and smiled for her. “Good. Is there anything you want to ask me? I only get to come out once. This is your chance.”

And there was something odd about the way she straightened in the chair, and lay her hands gently on the table. Her face didn’t change. She was still wearing that same slightly-happy-and-slightly-surprised smile she had back when he’d first announced he was seeing someone.

_Before_ he’d clarified he was seeing a boy.

“Are you…” she trailed off, and shrugged her shoulders. “Sure?”

His heart slammed twice against his chest.

_That_ was an odd thing to ask.

“Yes,” he said.

He wanted to see her smile change. He wanted an outward sign of whatever emotion was flitting through her head to show up. Something new, not this plastered-on expression she was holding there like a mask.

Like a Yamaguchi Grin.

“Trust me,” he said, and he warmed his smile. “If I thought I could avoid having this talk, I would. But I’m sure. I’m gay.”

But his smile wasn’t enough to change hers.

Her face was like concrete.

Not upset, not angry, not sad—just the  _same_ .

“I’m enjoying this talk,” his father said, and a tiny smile crept onto his lips. It rivaled Tsukki’s for subtlety, but it was there. “I’m glad you didn’t avoid it. We haven’t spoken so much in a long time. About anything.”

For the first time since the conversation started, Tadashi felt tears threaten him. His father hadn’t meant it like an accusation, but Tadashi knew the truth in it. They  _hadn’t_ spoken like this for years. Maybe not ever. And he knew why.

It was because he was terrified he’d slip up. Say the wrong thing. Give himself away. That fear had kept him from opening up to both of them about almost everything. Years worth of talk. Years worth of bonding and closeness…

He felt the sting of that lost time behind his eyes.

“I’ll make tea,” his mother said, and stood up quickly. “So we can keep the talk going.”

She vanished into the kitchen, and Tadashi watched her go.

He knew something wasn’t right.

He got to his feet and walked around the table to follow her.

As he passed his father, he felt a hand catch him by the wrist.

“She’s okay,” he said.

Tadashi patted his father on the hand and felt him let go, then kept walking. He braced himself for what he’d see in the kitchen. He knew his mother, and she wasn’t someone who could keep her emotions down. It was where he got it from. Tears and laughter and excitement were like nitroglycerin in her veins—the slightest bump set them off, and they exploded out any way they could.

If she was upset—and he thought she probably  _was_ —this could be an ugly scene.

He found her by the kettle, preparing three cups and a teapot.

“Mom,” he said, and reached out to tap her shoulder.

He braced for the red face, the tear-streaked cheeks, the running nose. She turned quickly, and…

Nothing.

The same sort-of smile she’d been wearing this whole time.

“Are you okay?” he said.

“Yes, yes!” she said, patting him on the arm. “Of course I am, don’t worry. This isn’t about me, this is about you! It’s your night and your life. I’m happy you could be open about it.”

Tadashi wanted to believe her.

But her face didn’t match the words.

He fished in his pocket for his phone.

“Do you want to see a picture of Taiga?” he said.

“Oh, yes please,” she said.

The kettle was nearly boiled by the time he found a good picture of them together. It was a selfie he’d snapped of them just outside the school grounds one afternoon, right as the sun was going down. They were both lit up orange, and their smiles were as wide as their faces. Taiga was half-up on Tadashi’s back, hanging from his neck the way he liked to do.

“He’s adorable,” she said.

Tadashi laughed.

“He’d love that you said so.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” she said.

Tadashi kept up his grin.

“I’ll introduce you all soon.”

She patted him on the cheek just as the kettle finished boiling, and she took the tray of cups back to the dining room. In the quiet, Tadashi leaned against the kitchen bench and stared at his phone.

He remembered showing her a video of two kittens that Hinata had sent him, once. It was right on this spot, right around this time of night. One kitten was falling asleep at the edge of a basket, while the second one crawled up from beneath it and kissed it on the nose. It lasted all of seven seconds.

And when she’d seen it, she’d shrieked with joy.

Not like some people who  _think_ they’re emotional do when they ‘shriek’. She shrieked the kind of shriek they could sample and use in a sci-fi film as a laser gun sound effect. Tears had gathered in her eyes as she demanded he play it again, then again. She’d laughed at how cute they were. Cried at how  precious and tiny they were , and at the memory of a kitten she’d once owned.  All over a cat video .

Tonight?

Nothing.

Not so much as a sniffle.

He tapped back to the home screen of his phone and brought up Oikawa’s message again.

 

_This kind of announcement can make people do and say funny things in the heat of the moment. Try not to be too hard on them if that happens. Remember who they were right before you said anything. That’s the real them._

 

He thought it meant they might yell and scream and swear. Thought it would be something big and flashy and obvious that he could rightly stand up against, or take the moral high ground with. But this? Something so subtle and hard to describe?

He had no idea what to do with this.

“Tadashi,” his mother called. “Tea’s ready.”

It wasn’t a disaster. But it wasn’t perfect, either.

Taiga was right.

Before you get stronger, you start slow.

At least this was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this week! With many many thanks to everyone for reading and kudos-ing and replying, making this just the greatest experience ever. Without a weekly Haikyuu episode right now, we all gotta stick together, hahah.


	25. And Get Stronger

Tadashi threw himself into volleyball.

It wasn't that things at home were bad. In fact, just days after coming out, things were more or less back to normal. They spoke about the usual day-to-day things and got on with their lives like nothing had changed. His mother brought him tea when she thought he was studying too hard. She asked him how school was going. How volleyball was going. How Tsukki was going. Hell, she even asked how  _Taiga_ was going.

It'd be perfect but for the fact she still hadn't cried.

Not once. About anything.

Going on a week since he'd come out to her and it was like he'd shut off her faucet of feelings that was usually on full-gush. It bothered him. Every day a little more desperate to see her cry. And that, itself, made him feel guilty. What sort of son wished that on his mother?

It was a mess. But a subtle mess. The kind you couldn't complain about, because on the surface everything was  _fine_ . And so, until something changed at home, volleyball was all he thought about.

And that was plenty enough.

At the beginning of October, just days before the Spring High representative playoffs, the team packed into a bus to attend the final Tokyo training camp of the year. Tadashi's gym bag was filled with  _real_ gym clothes for an  _actual_ training camp, this time. Without Taiga here, though, he doubted he'd have as much fun as he did on their fake one. Especially not at night.

The days went by quickly—filled with practice games and drills and penalty sprints—and the nights were taken up with endless serve practice. Tadashi liked the nights, when there were no school divisions and everyone could hang out together. He made friends with a couple of the players from Ubugawa high, who taught him some tricks about jump serves to increase his angle and power.

And then there was Nekoma.

The only volleyball team in Japan that might be even weirder than Karasuno.

“Daichi, have you asked that girl out yet? Your volleyball captain girl?”

Tadashi froze mid-sip of his iced tea and stared at the tall, smirking boy who'd asked the question.

Kuroo.

Captain of Nekoma volleyball club—Karasuno's destined rivals—and Daichi's social equal. Whenever they came to one of these training camps in Tokyo, you could always count on Kuroo to liven up the conversation. Apart from Suga, he was the only person Tadashi had  _ever_ known brave enough to tease Daichi.

Daichi smiled with narrowed eyes.

“Come on,” he said. “Her name is Yui, and we talked about this. She's just a friend.”

Tadashi kept his lips wrapped around the straw of his drink and said nothing.  _Maybe_ this was the wrong dinner table to sit at. Most of the others were full, though, and Tsukki had—until moments ago, when he'd excused himself to bed  early —been sitting opposite him. Daichi and Kuroo took up the next set of facing chairs. Hinata and Kenma, Nekoma's setter, were at the end of the table.

“Eh?” Kuroo said, tilting his head so his bizarre dark fringe covered one eye. “I guess that's why you're always grinning like a lovelorn teenager when you talk about her.”

“We are teenagers, Kuroo. Everyone here is a teenager.”

“Not everyone's lovelorn, though.”

Daichi folded his arms.

“Oh, really? You aren't going to count Tanaka, Nishinoya and Yamamoto? They literally call themselves the _Kiyoko Defense Squad._ They spend as much time drooling over her as they do training for the Spring Tournament.”

Kuroo blew his fringe aside with a dismissive  _pffft_ .

“That's schoolboy crush nonsense,” he said. “You're something different.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Kuroo said, smirking. “You're _besotted_.”

Tadashi couldn't help it. He snort-laughed through his straw, and the bubbles slurped about inside the waxy box. Daichi looked at him like he'd just run over an entire box of kittens. Like he'd stabbed him so hard through the back, the knife had come bursting through his front.

“See!” Kuroo said. “Even your underclassmen know it.”

Tadashi coughed into his hand, pretending like he was choking on his tea. He wondered if he could just keep coughing until it was time to go to bed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom and just keep running until he made it back to Miyagi. That'd give him a good few days to go into hiding so that Daichi could never find and murder him.

“Anyway, how can you be sure _I'm_ the only one?” Daichi said, finally dragging his eyes off of Tadashi and back to Kuroo. “What about you, big cat? How's _your_ love life?

And as soon as Daichi turned the conversation back on Kuroo, Tadashi got a feeling in his gut. A little suspicious twinge that told him he'd better prepare himself, because he knew where this conversation was going.  _Brace yourself, Tadashi_ . 

This was lad talk. Everyone was talking about girls, and girlfriends, and love lives. If the conversation broke away from just Daichi and Kuroo, it might make it's way around the table to him, too. And if that happened, he'd be ready.

He took a deep breath and set himself.

_I'm one of the lads, too._

Kuroo pressed a hand to his chest.

“Sadly, I am far too focused on my studies and volleyball to think about on the fairer sex. Or sex in general.”

“Ugh,” Kenma said.

“Well,” Daichi said. “What about your underclassmen?”

“ _Kenma_?” Kuroo said. “Daichi, you can see me sitting here alive, can't you? That means I haven't had the fatal heart attack that would _definitely_ come with any announcement Kenma was seeing somebody.”

“Kuroo, stop,” Kenma said.

He didn't look up from his videogame, and Tadashi could see the way he tried not to squirm. He liked Kenma. He was a quiet guy, and hated drawing attention to himself. He understood that want to be left alone, to keep away from prying eyes. Kenma was the kind of guy he could happily sit quietly by for days on end.

“Well,” Kuroo said, turning his gaze to Hinata. “How about you, shrimpy? Are you going to swoop in and save your captain by proving he's not the only one here tragically in love?”

Hinata sat bolt upright.

“ _Me_?” he said. “Nobody likes me.”

“Oh, pessimist,” Kuroo said. “I'm sure _someone_ does.”

Kenma shifted his chin barely a fraction of a centimeter, looking at Hinata from beneath his cascade of peroxide-blond hair. Daichi turned to him, too.

“You don't have your eye on any girls?” Daichi said.

Hinata looked confused.

“I guess...I like Yachi and Shimizu?”

“Oh?” Daichi said.

“Yeah,” Hinata said. “Because they let me talk about volleyball _all_ the time! They don't look bored like most other people do.”

“Oh.” Daichi's face fell.

Kuroo laughed.

“The boy's in love with Lady Volleyball,” he said. “Aren't we all? Well, Daichi, only one left to save you now.”

Kuroo's gaze fell on Tadashi.

He felt his heart  _pop_ inside his chest.

This was it.

“How about it, Freckles?” Kuroo _never_ called him Yamaguchi. “Can you rescue your captain from having to admit I'm right?”

Daichi's head snapped around to meet Tadashi's eyes, and it was written all over his face.  _Oh crap_ , he was thinking.  _Why didn't I see this coming before now?_

“Fine, Kuroo,” Daichi said, holding up a hand. Tadashi could see it in Daichi's posture and hear it dripping from his voice—self-sacrifice. He'd turned himself into a human shield, like Tsukki had done over and over at the Jazz Festival. “You win.”

Usually about now, fear and nervousness would be trying to clamp down on every impulse Tadashi had to speak. He'd be clamming up, scrambling for something to deflect with. Trying to come up with a story that made him look pathetic so Kuroo would feel too much pity to press for more details.

Not this time, though.

This time, the words were rushing up from deep-down.

He was about to—for the first time in his life,  _ever—_ show off.

“Well, actually...” he said.

Kuroo's eyebrows shot up.

“Oh ho?”

Daichi watched him carefully. So did Hinata.

Kenma's face was still buried in his DS.

_I'm one of the lads, too._

“I started seeing someone about four months ago,” Tadashi said. He didn't give himself a chance to chicken out. “Taiga. Nishinoya's cousin. He's a musician.”

The two cats at the table stared at him. Tadashi heard the screams as Kenma's character died in-game.

“He?” Kuroo said. “Did you mix up your pronouns or are you actually dating a guy?”

“The...second one?” Tadashi said.

He could see Daichi trying to look in every direction at once—to keep an eye on Tadashi to make sure he was okay, and to monitor how Kuroo and Kenma were reacting to the news. But Tadashi had a feeling that the more defensive he was—the more  _serious_ he was—the worse the conversation would go.

That wasn't how lads did it.

Lads put on a smile, and turned everything into a joke.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Kuroo said. 

“Seriously,” Tadashi said, grinning his new-and-improved Yamaguchi grin. “I'm really sorry, looks like you aren't as good at spotting the besotted ones as you think!”

For one nervous second, nobody made a sound. Kuroo's face was frozen in a hard-to-read way, and Kenma was looking at him with his least-bored expression. An expression he usually reserved for videogames, or conversations with Hinata.

Then Kuroo threw his head back and let go a  _proper_ laugh.

Right from his belly, loud and hearty.

“Daichi,” he said through huffs. “I stand corrected!”

Daichi sent Tadashi a tiny wink—a wordless THANK YOU!—and Tadashi never felt so satisfied. His captain thought he was leaping in front of a bullet, only to have his underclassman save the day.

“See, Kuroo?” Daichi said. “You can't read everyone like you can read a block.”

“Apparently not,” Kuroo said. “Well, I'm glad at least _someone_ here is seeing some action on the dating scene. Nice work, Freckles. First Oikawa, now you, huh? Who knew volleyball was so...modern?”

“Kuroo,” Kenma said, turning back to his game. “Shut up.”

“What?” Kuroo said. “I mean it. I think it's great.”

Tadashi snorted and shrugged.

“Well it's great for _me_ , anyway.”

Kuroo laughed again.

“Hey, Freckles, maybe _you_ can give your captain some dating tips, then? Convince him to stop being such a chicken.”

“Oh, any time,” Tadashi said, turning his smile on Daichi. “But I mean...I'm not a miracle worker.”

Kuroo's laugh was a lion's roar. Daichi reached over and ruffled the hair on the back of Tadashi's head.

“Ah, Yamaguchi,” he said, deadly grin plastered across his face. “An extra five laps of diving drills tomorrow. Just for you.”

Tadashi hung his head, but couldn't stop smiling.

The extra drills were worth it.

He was one of the lads, too.

 

 

***

 

 

Tadashi almost made it back to the first years' bunk room when the tiny little voice snagged him.

“Yamaguchi?”

Tadashi spun to his left and found Kenma, eyes down and hands in his pockets. His hair looked like a two-tone blond and black mop perched on top of his slouched frame, all wrapped up in his red Nekoma jacket.

“K...Kenma?” he said.

Now that he said it out loud, he was sure it was the first time he'd actually used the boy's name. It was definitely the first one-on-one conversation they'd ever had.

“Yeah,” Kenma said. “Do you have a minute? To … talk or whatever? It's fine if it's too late.”

Kenma's voice was lower than usual. It was almost a whisper, slightly croaky...like he'd been yelling for a few hours, which was impossible. Kenma didn't yell.  _Something_ wasn't right, and it set off a bizarre protective instinct in Tadashi's brain. He didn't care how late it was. It could be four AM, and Kenma could have shaken him from a deep sleep. He'd still tell him it was fine.

“Sure, of course,” Tadashi said, throwing a look over his shoulder. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Um, somewhere else?” Kenma said. “Just...away.”

“Yeah,” Tadashi said. “Let's go.”

Kenma led him to a stairwell, and they climbed all the way to the top. Nekoma High School was almost completely dark save for the eerie moonlight that flooded through big, open windows on the right side of the corridor. It made Kenma look more pale than usual. A shimmering, shy ghost.

The further they walked, the more worried Tadashi got.

What on Earth could need this amount of privacy?

When they reached an opened classroom door, Kenma ducked inside. The tables and chairs were all empty, spooky in the utterly quiet night. Kenma sat, cross-legged, at the front of the room, and Tadashi followed suit.

How close were you supposed to sit in a situation like this? In a  _we've never talked before, but I must speak to you immediately and alone_ situation? Should he have shut the door on his way in? Was this even  _appropriate_ , disappearing to an empty classroom with a kid he hardly knew?

“Sorry,” Kenma said, head still down. “I prefer the quiet, and I'm not very good at this kind of thing. Talking to people and...stuff.”

“It's fine,” Tadashi said.

“I'm sorry about Kuroo,” Kenma said. “At dinner. He's just...outgoing.”

Tadashi laughed.

Was  _that_ what this was about?

“Oh, no, it's okay. It's good, actually. I was sort of looking for a chance to bring it up. I want to get more comfortable talking about it, you know? And he gave me the perfect opportunity.”

“Oh, okay,” Kenma said. “So in that case, would it be all right if I ask you some questions?”

Tadashi thought back to dinner time. To the way Kenma had looked at him when he'd casually dropped Taiga into the conversation. Realistically, there was only one thing these questions could be about. They sure as hell wouldn't be about jump-float serves.

But Kenma wasn't the kind of guy who'd open up if he started interrogating him. He reminded Tadashi of himself half a year ago. This wasn't the kind of conversation where Tadashi tried to drag explanations out of Kenma.

Kenma wanted answers, not a discussion.

“Yeah, of course,” Tadashi said. “I'll answer anything you like.”

“Thank you,” Kenma said.

And he went quiet for a minute.

It was just their breathing in the deathly-quiet classroom.

Then, all at once... _bam_ . Tadashi was hit by Deja Vu. He knew this quiet. Two boys sitting opposite one another. Thick, awkward atmosphere between them and hearts beating like jackhammers. 

It was exactly like that day on the rooftop, when he'd first come out to Tsukki.

“Does all Karasuno know you're...gay?” Kenma said.

Tadashi felt his heart skip when Kenma  _whispered_ the word.

“The team does,” Tadashi said. He kept his answers short. “And I think Coach Ukai and my serve coach, too. Maybe some others if Taiga's told them.”

“Ah,” Kenma said.

More quiet, then:

“Anybody else?”

And Tadashi snorted a quiet laugh.

“Actually, yeah. Oikawa. Seijoh's captain. He knows because I went to see him last month. We had this whole... _thing_ to try and sort out. It's complicated. But yeah, he knows. So do my parents.”

“Ah,” Kenma said again. “How did they react?”

“My parents?”

“Everyone.”

Tadashi thought about it.

“Tsukki—Kuroo knows Tsukki, right? Tall blond with glasses?—he's my closest friend and he already knew. He's been amazing. He listened to me drone on and on about all my problems and helped me ask out Taiga. Then Taiga helped me when I came out to the team. We sort of sprung that one on them all at once. See, Taiga thought he'd come second in this music festival competition, but _actually_ he'd come first and...”

Tadashi could see Kenma's bewildered eyes, and chuckled.

“Well, it's a long story. But we kissed each other, right in front of everyone. And they were all so good about it. Half of them had guessed already. That made it kind of easy.

“My parents, well. It's been okay. My dad reacted way better than I expected, and my mom...”

He hadn't said this out loud to anyone but Taiga.

Mentioning her made his throat tighten up, but he refused to let Kenma hear it.

“She'll get there, I think. She's fine about it, but I don't know if she's really used to the idea. It's hard to explain I guess.”

“Oh,” Kenma said.

The quiet settled over them again, and Tadashi's brain had nowhere to go except back home. He wondered if his mother was crying yet—maybe now that he wasn't there. Wondered whether he should send her a text, even though she'd be well asleep by now.

“Is it hard?” Kenma said.

“Hard?”

“Being...out. Is it difficult?”

Tadashi snorted.

He didn't think about it too hard. He just let the words out.

“It can be. Sometimes. But honestly, so was being in. I guess it depends on how you look at it. I don't have to work as hard any more when I talk about the things I like. I don't have to filter everything in case I say the wrong thing. I don't have to keep my phone hidden in case someone sees my music and decides it's kinda gay. Like...that's something I legitimately thought could happen before. Ridiculous, right? But it's the sort of thing that goes around in your head. I don't miss the paranoia of it.”

“Makes sense,” Kenma said.

The cycle of questions and quiet kept up for a while longer. Kenma would fiddle with his jacket zipper for a while, then ask something else, then lapse back into distraction while he thought up the next question. Tadashi answered as best he could and never demanded to know why. He did most of the talking. Kenma listened. And for the second time that night, he was hit by a wave of Deja Vu.

This time, it was the youth center in Sendai.

He felt like he was right back in that conference room with Oikawa. Except this time, the roles were reversed.  _He_ was the one who'd been sought out. He was the one with the answers, and the experience, and the confidence to talk about it.

Kenma had come to him for  _advice_ .

He was a veteran homosexual now.

Talking casually about his boyfriend with the lads. Out to his team. Out to his parents. Answering big, tricky questions about what it was like to come out, and how life was different now he'd done it...

This must be what Oikawa felt like all the time.

Half an hour later—almost midnight—Kenma ran out of questions. He never offered any hints about why he'd asked, or asked any questions specifically about himself. Tadashi didn't need to know. They said goodbye the same way they would if they'd bumped into one another at a supermarket, and left it at that.

They both snuck back to their bunk rooms, and Tadashi slid into the bedroll beside Tsukkis. His phone was still under his pillow, and he tucked himself beneath his blanket so the light wouldn't wake anyone. He brought up the messages screen and tapped Oikawa's name.

 

_You'll never guess what just happened_ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadashi's turning into Oikawa!! Poor kid! Lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting and kudosing and anything else you may have done this week! 
> 
> There might be a bit of a delay for the next update as I'll be away at a weekend-long wedding next week, so I won't be able to post on time. I think it'll be worth the wait, though. Oikawa and Iwa are both in it, and Tadashi's mum and dad will have some page time with Taiga, too! All very exciting :D
> 
> Thanks guys! See you in the comments/next week!


	26. Second Domino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the delay on this chapter.

Tadashi cracked the window just a tiny bit and let the jet of cool freeway air dry the sweat from his forehead. He un-coupled his right hand from around Taiga's—just for a second while he wiped it clean of anxious wetness—then wrapped it right back up again.

Taiga smiled at him.

“Nervous?”

Tadashi laughed.

“Incredibly.”

Taiga pumped their joined hands twice. A little reassuring squeeze to let him know he was still  _there._ Their very own call and response, like the way sonar sends out a ping and waits for the signal to bounce back. A game of marco polo played palm-to-palm.

From the driver's seat, his father's voice boomed through the car.

“It's okay to be nervous,” he said. “But you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can still turn around and go home.”

Tadashi swallowed and looked at his phone.

Oikawa's latest message was still on the lock screen.

 

_We'll wait for you outside so we can all walk in together. Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou. Did I say thank you yet? Let's go change the world!_

 

It'd all happened so fast, was the thing. One minute he'd been texting Oikawa about what happened with Kenma, and how it felt now that he was out to almost everyone. It'd been so easy to send those messages—tap out a few sentences on his phone, hit send, wait for an answer. It'd tricked him into feeling invincible. Like he'd finally conquered the whole 'coming out' thing, and was ready for anything that followed.

Then the phone had lit up, ringing, with Oikawa's name in the middle of the screen. The second he saw it, Tadashi knew something was up. Oikawa wasn't the kind who did things by fractions, or thought small, or jogged on the spot. Tadashi was already shaking when he slid his finger to accept the call.

And then, the first few words. Dreaded words.  _Terrifying_ words.

_First off,_ Oikawa had said, _feel free to say no to this_ .

Right away, Tadashi knew he'd never be able to say no. Not after the big game he'd been talking in his text messages. Not after the weeks he'd spent convincing himself he was out, now, and that he'd never have to hide again.

Oikawa sounded so excited, too. Like he was calling Tadashi to tell him he'd won the lottery.

_I've charmed my way into an interview,_ he'd said.  _Monthly Volleyball are interested in doing a follow-up on my coming out story. Mainstream coverage, Yama! Trouble is, there's not a whole lot to follow up on. Except...one thing, if you see what I'm saying._

Tadashi did see what he was saying, but made him spell it out anyway. It gave him time to try and get his heartbeat under control. To try and stop his brain from reflexively shrinking back into the closet and shutting down.

Oikawa wanted to give them a feelgood piece.

And Tadashi's story was the only feelgood bit of news Oikawa'd had.

_It's asking a lot, I know_ , Oikawa'd said.  _But here's our chance to really_ do  _something. Bring Taiga with you, if he wants to come. Show him off to the world. Be that second domino that never fell. Please._

And now here he was. Hurtling down the freeway from Sendai to Tokyo, clinging to Taiga and trying to keep his breakfast down. In about two hours they'd be arriving at the publishing house that put out Monthly Volleyball. And about two weeks after that, just days before the Spring Tournament qualifiers, he'd be on the coffee table of every volleyball enthusiast right across the country.

He squeezed Taiga's hand again, felt the tight pulse back against his fingers, and cleared his throat.

“No, I'm fine,” he told his father. “I want to do it.”

His father caught his eye in the rear-view mirror and nodded, then turned his attention back to the road.

His mother half-twisted in the passenger seat.

“I already told all my friends,” she said, and he could see her gentle grin. Her Yamaguchi Grin. “'My handsome son will be in a magazine', I said. With his very handsome partner, too. You'll put me in a tight spot if you back out now!”

And she laughed.  _Softly_ . Tadashi and Taiga laughed with her, and she turned back around. 

Tadashi so wanted to feel like she was back to her old self. In a lot of ways, she was. She'd been so positive about this interview, and ever since she'd met Taiga her joyful side was beginning to swell. She laughed a lot. She smiled a lot. She and Taiga had talked for two hours straight about music, and she hadn't shown a single sign that she was anything but perfectly fine.

Sometimes, it was enough to make him wonder if he was imagining things. If he was projecting too much of his own expectations on to her, and that's why she felt out of sorts.

But still...three weeks, and not a tear shed. Not in joy, not in anger, not in sadness.

Something still wasn't right.

He couldn't figure out what, but it was  _something_ .

 

 

***

 

 

“Yama!” Oikawa said, striding toward him on with long, long legs. “And Taiga. Good to see you again.”

Oikawa led his group of three like he was their commanding officer. Behind him and to the left was a man almost as tall, almost as striking, almost as confident—someone Tadashi recognized from television. Oikawa Senior. One of Japan's most high-profile and successful contract lawyers, as well as Oikawa's father and agent. As a presence, even  _he_ shrank into the shadow cast by his son—something he didn't look uncomfortable with or un-used to.

Tadashi's eyes were immediately drawn right, though, by the shortest of the three. He wasn't sure why he hadn't expected to see Iwaizumi today, but now that he did he couldn't look away. A blush took him as he thought back to the conference room in Sendai, to all the things he knew about Iwaizumi that he maybe shouldn't, to the story Oikawa had told that brought both he and Taiga to tears. It'd made him wrap his memory of Iwaizumi in cotton wool—pack it in paper, because nobody could go through all of that and not be fragile.

But right then, that all crumpled and turned to ash.

That instinctual want to feel sorry for him was swatted away by the way Iwaizumi carried himself. He wore casual-cool clothes—stuff that Taiga wouldn't have looked out of place in—that fitted him just right. He looked every bit the ace of Seijoh. This was a guy who was strong-backed, broad-shouldered, all points and edges and power. His posture was proud and straight and tight, and it made him seem to tower over Tadashi even though they were the same height.

Until now, Tadashi had been thinking of him as this broken-hearted thing. All lethargic from the scars on the inside. He'd let himself forget that proud and powerful third-year he'd faced on the other side of the volleyball net and replaced him with a cowering caricature.

Now he saw Iwaizumi again, he felt like an idiot.

Oikawa closed the distance between their groups and patted both Tadashi and Taiga on the shoulder.

“Yama, you know Iwa,” he said, nodding. “I'll let you three get acquainted while I introduce our folks.”

The two Oikawas swept away to speak to Tadashi's parents. Tadashi hated introductions—he never knew how to do them smoothly. He  _sort_ of already knew Iwaizumi, but only by sight. This was the first time they'd ever spoken.

“Iwaizumi,” he said. “I'm Yamaguchi. We've played a few times.”

“The troublesome pinch server,” Iwaizumi said, and he grabbed Tadashi's hand in a firm, powerful shake. “I know you. That's a hell of a weapon you've got.”

Tadashi  _needed_ to get his flushing cheeks under control.

Even Iwaizumi's voice was strong and sturdy, and Tadashi hated that it surprised him. He could feel the unbowed pride rolling off him in waves.

“And this,” Tadashi said, pushing Taiga closer, “Is Taiga. My boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Iwaizumi said to Taiga, and shook his hand, too. “Seems we're 'the boyfriends' today. I sincerely hope yours doesn't give you as much trouble as mine.”

Taiga laughed and shook his head.

“No, probably not. Just the usual amount, you know. The occasional trip to Tokyo to come out in a magazine. That kind of thing.”

Iwaizumi smiled and his shoulders seemed to un-knot.

Tadashi tilted his head.

“Are you going to be interviewed, too, Iwaizumi?” he asked.

“No, not me,” Iwaizumi said. “I'm just here for support. It's a bit complicated but I'm not really in a position to do it just now.”

Tadashi felt a twitch of sadness inside. The same sort of mournful, regretful sadness you felt when you saw a lion caged up at the zoo. Or a bear tranquilized on a veterinarian's table. A killer whale hoist out of the water in a sling.

Born in another place and time, Iwaizumi would have been right at home with a sword on his back, or wrapped in plate armor, or staring down armies. A great warrior in service to this-or-that Emperor, whose strength and pride were knitted together, who would be entitled to every happiness and comfort he fought to earn. Unfortunately for him, he was born in the centuries after that. When some very smart but nasty people figured out how to use institutions and shame to defeat someone so mighty, because they couldn't do it any other way.

“Which is why I'm so grateful you're doing what you're doing,” Iwaizumi said, pushing on. He nodded over Tadashi's shoulder, where Oikawa was still busily chatting between the three adults. “And look...I know he can be pushy, so I just want to make sure. You know you don't have to do this, right? It's very good of you, but it isn't your responsibility. You know that?”

Tadashi took a deep breath, and met Iwaizumi's eye.

“I do,” he said. “I know I don't _have_ to. But I want to.”

Iwaizumi smiled at him, and he saw the face that Oikawa loved.

“Then thank you,” Iwaizumi said.

There wasn't time to answer before the Oikawa whirlwind swept back to them, the three adults in tow. Tadashi spared a glance for his mother and father, who looked bewildered but happy. Oikawa Senior was still chatting to them, and he seemed every bit as capable as his son was at putting people at ease.

“All right!” Oikawa said, hanging his forearms one each from Tadashi and Taiga's shoulders. “Introductions done? Everyone know each other?”

“There's _three_ of us,” Iwaizumi said. “We managed.”

“Then we're almost ready to head inside!” Oikawa said. “But Taiga, do you mind if I steal Yama away for a minute in private first? Nothing untoward! You can keep Iwa as security.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and settled them on Taiga.

“You see? Trouble.”

Taiga hid a giggle behind his hand and waved Tadashi away.

Oikawa steered him a few meters from the clump of others, over by the entryway to the publishing house. It was a big, sand-colored building that was acned all over with grated windows and air conditioning units. Hardly the glamorous world of journalism Tadashi was expecting.

“I want to show you something,” Oikawa said, and he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. It was folded in half, but Tadashi could see printed words through the blank side. “This is my backup. There's enough material here to keep me talking the whole interview about me, and only me. I have to give you one last chance, Yama. We're about to do something pretty unheard of. And it might not have seemed like a big deal before today. It might _still_ not seem like a big deal right now. But it is.

“So think about how you'll feel the day before this issue comes out. It's the Spring Tournament issue. Every parent of every high school child will buy it so they can see their kid's name in print. Every player in the tournament will read it. They're going to know about you. They're going to know about Taiga. 

“So all you have to do is say the word,” Oikawa said, and he tapped the piece of paper in his hand. “And it's plan B. No judgment, no shame. I'll understand.”

Tadashi almost laughed.

“Are you _trying_ to scare me?”

Oikawa didn't laugh back.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

Tadashi felt his stomach churning around like Hinata's did before a big game. The nerves in him were in full revolt, making him tingle and twitch, whistling a high-pitched squeal through his ears, pin-pricking his skin with goosebumps. There was nothing he could do about that. He was who he was, and anxiety was as much a part of him as his sexuality. Maybe, a little while ago, that anxiety would have been enough to make him take up Oikawa's offer.

But not now. Not surrounded by the support of his parents, and the warmth and intimacy of Taiga, and the unbroken strength of Iwaizumi, and the relentless, world-changing determination of Oikawa.

“No,” he said, refusing to back out for the third time. “I'm here because I want to be.”

Oikawa smiled.

A triumphant, winning,  _glorious_ smile.

“I know you are.”

 

***

 

Monthly Volleyball was the smallest of three different magazines produced on the third floor, and Tadashi's party of seven outnumbered the staff there almost two-to-one. Suddenly, the unimpressive outside of the building looked like an art gallery or an exhibition center compared to this dingy little space. A cubicle farm, stacked all over with boxes and old furniture, wires and cables snaking across the floor in all directions.

If it fazed Oikawa, he didn't let it show.

They were met by two people in clothes that weren't ironed. One was there to interview them—Keiko, who could speak three languages and used to work for an American foreign office. The other, Marcus, was there to photograph them. He used to work in the foreign office, too, and could only speak one language. And it wasn't Japanese.

Keiko explained that she wanted to interview Oikawa first while Tadashi and Taiga were photographed together. Then they'd swap, and she'd interview Tadashi and Taiga while Oikawa had his shots done.

“Then at the end, our two heroes together,” she said, nodding to Tadashi and Oikawa. She had the flat voice of someone who had so much to do she'd given up on trying to finish it all. “We'll do a few poses in your school jerseys. Have a bit of fun. Sound good?”

Oikawa slapped Tadashi on the back.

“Heroes,” he said, winking.

He went with Keiko, and Marcus took Tadashi and Taiga to an exposed brick wall. A white screen was set up, as well as two sets of very bright lights that were wrapped in reflective silver. Marcus had them stand there a while as he got set up, then started gesturing and miming his instructions. How to stand, when they should look at each other, how close they should be.

Tadashi felt like everything was rushing by—like he was watching the whole experience through the windows of a speeding train. Never a chance to get a good look at anything.

“Love,” Marcus said—one of the few words he'd tried out—and he moved his hands close together. “Love, love, love.”

Taiga laughed and wheeled on Tadashi.

“Come on, guchi-chan,” he said. “ _Love_.”

Tadashi laughed, too.

“Am I doing it wrong?”

“Here,” Taiga said. “Let's try this.”

And he hooked a hand around Tadashi's neck. For just a second, Tadashi thought he was leaning in for a kiss, and his brain started furiously wondering if the magazine would even  _print_ a photo like that. 

All at once, though, he felt himself being tugged towards the ground and had to fight to stay on his feet. Taiga was trying his best to climb up on to his shoulders, slipping and sliding all over the place, knees and feet digging in to him in all sorts of places. He just managed to catch Taiga underneath his thigh, clinging to balance by a thread before they toppled in to a pile. When they finally stopped scrambling about, Taiga was hanging from Tadashi's neck with both hands. They caught each others' eyes and couldn't help it. They burst out laughing.

“Cute,” Marcus said, pronouncing it all wrong.

Beside Marcus, his mother clapped her hands.

“ _Cute_ ,” she agreed, grinning at Marcus and Tadashi and Taiga all at the same time.

Tadashi blushed and put Taiga down.

Maybe she really  _was_ back to normal.

A minute or two later and it was all over. The rushing train carried on, and Tadashi and Taiga were hurried over to Keiko's cubicle. It was busy over there—Oikawa Senior and Iwaizumi were crowded in, listening to Keiko's questions and Oikawa's answers. Keiko's smile had lost all of its stiffness after ten minutes with Oikawa.

“I think we're all done here!” she said, beaming at Tadashi and Taiga before turning her attention back to Oikawa. “Thank you for speaking with me. This is great stuff.”

Oikawa smiled and shrugged, as if to say  _well, naturally_ .

“Thank _you_ ,” he said. “This is going to make a big difference to a lot of people.”

And he stood, and patted Tadashi on the shoulder.

“Your turn, Yama,” Oikawa said, smiling as he walked by. “Don't worry. She punched herself out on me with the difficult questions. All you've gotta be is a happy couple.”

Keiko laughed and motioned for them to sit. Oikawa disappeared with Iwaizumi and his father, off to see Marcus. Tadashi felt like the speeding train was turning into a roller coaster.

“Exactly,” she said, and she started a new voice memo recording on her phone. “We just want to get to know you both.”

The interview was everything Oikawa promised. Easy, and puffy, and positive. The brunt of the political side of things was already taken care of, and all Keiko wanted to know was what life was like now. Had much changed. Do things feel different. What sort of places do they like to go on dates. The only question that made Tadashi think was the very last one.

Keiko threw it in at the last second, almost as an afterthought.

“Is there anything you want to say to any other players who might be in the closet, wondering if they should come out, too?”

It took him by surprise, and he answered wrong.

“No,” he said.

“Oh, okay,” Keiko said, smiling her reporter's smile. “We've got plenty, anyway!”

Taiga pumped his hand, and Tadashi pumped it back.

“Ah, wait,” he said. “Sorry, that's not right. I do have something I want to say.”

And he did. But he didn't know what it was.

All he knew was that he needed to say  _something_ . It was the one chance he had—maybe the one chance he'd  _ever have—_ to speak to  his friends and peers and opponents all at the same time. People who knew and liked him, people who didn't know him at all, people who supported him and people who thought coming out was  impossible ...

_One_ chance to say  _one_ thing.

He just started talking. It was all he could do.

“I want to say...” he trailed off. “And maybe you can fiddle around with the words so they sound better, because I have no idea if this will be okay. It's all just thoughts, and it's hard to turn into a _point_ to make. That's how it's been since the very start. Since I was in the closet. I had a ton of confusing thoughts that never organized themselves into something straightforward, and that made me scared. But I guess what I want to say is this:

“Three different people told me I didn't have to do this interview. And that was just today. And it's true. I don't have to come out. Nobody _has_ to come out. Just being gay doesn't make it my responsibility to be an example to others, or whatever. But I have a boyfriend here to support me. I have two parents here to support me. I have a whole team full of friends at Karasuno who support me. I have Oikawa to support me. Because of that, I _can_ be here.

“And because I _can_ be here, I need to be. In my head, I feel like I need to be, because there are people who can't  be here. People who aren't as lucky as I am. And a lot of them are kids my age. So what I want to say to them is: do what's right for you. It might not be the same thing as what's right for me, and that's okay. It's okay to be scared and it's okay to say nothing. Taiga said to me once, 'it's okay to have role models before you are one', and he's right. It took me a long time to get here today. To this interview. And I needed Oikawa to lead the way. And even now I'm _still_ really scared.

“You aren't doing anything wrong. You don't need to be Oikawa and you don't need to be me. You just need to be you. It's okay to just be you. I guess that's it. That's what I want to say. That's probably way too many words, sorry.”

When he stopped talking, he noticed how quiet it was. Keiko didn't say anything for a few seconds—almost like she wasn't sure he was done. Or like she wasn't finished making sense of what he'd said. Next to him, Taiga was smiling in an odd way. Staring at him like he had once before in Sendai, in the ramen place right after they talked to Oikawa. Further out, his father was nodding to himself while his mother latched on to his arm.

“Do you need more?” he said, trying to break the silence. “I can—”

“Oh, no,” Keiko said, snapping out of it. “That was great. Really...well said. You're making my job really easy, Yamaguchi.”

He let his gaze drop—too easily embarrassed to take a compliment like that—and felt Taiga squeezing his hand. When he looked back up, Keiko was shuffling her notes.

“Well,” she said, standing. “All that's left is the jersey photos. Thanks for being so open with me today. This story is going to knock a few socks off.”

Tadashi laughed.

The train was rushing on.

He and Oikawa excused themselves to the bathroom and changed into their jerseys—Oikawa chattering the whole time about what sort of poses they should do. Charlie's Angels, Yama! Mulder and Scully, Yama! Boxers at a weigh-in! Arm wrestling! Get me in a headlock! Tadashi 'sure'd and 'good idea'd his way through all of them, letting Oikawa's infectious enthusiasm fill him up.

When he was almost done changing, his phone went off. A message from Taiga.

 

_I couldn't say it out loud in front of your folks, but that last answer? Amazing. Perfect. Superb. Brilliant. It couldn't have been better. 10/10. Never been so turned on in my life._

 

Tadashi laughed, and when Oikawa asked what was so funny he said, “Nothing.”

When they got back to Marcus, they tried a bunch of different things. Oikawa took control, steering Tadashi this way and that, getting a thumbs up and a sly grin from Marcus with each new pose. They went back to back, holding up finger guns. They pretended like they were punching one another on the chin. Oikawa grabbed him around the neck and noogied him. Tadashi took Oikawa's left hand in a twisted-up police grip. Pose after pose after pose.

They went for so long that their crowd of onlookers got bored and started talking between themselves. Oikawa Senior, Tadashi's father and Taiga formed a small group while Tadashi's mother doted on Iwaizumi.

Oikawa laughed.

“Iwa,” he said. “Always popular with ladies of a certain age.”

Marcus cut in.

“Almost done,” he said, the words _just_ recognizable. He gripped his two hands together. “Hands. Hands?”

Oikawa thought for a minute, then held out his right hand.

“I think he means shake,” Oikawa said.

“Oh, sure,” Tadashi said.

And he lay his hand in Oikawa's.

Marcus' camera clicked dozens of times in quick succession, capturing every millisecond of the handshake. Oikawa's grip gradually got tighter and tighter, like he was trying to squeeze all the air out between their palms. It wasn't a painful grip, though—it was warm and firm, not a play for dominance.

Oikawa took in, then let out, a deep, deep breath.

“I'm glad you came to Sendai that day, Yama.”

Tadashi blinked.

Then again.

“Me, too,” he said.

Everything else they wanted to say—and it seemed like so much—they said with their hands and eyes. Oikawa pumped their grip once, met Tadashi's gaze, and gave him a single nod. In that tiniest second, Tadashi saw all the way in to him. Behind his showman's eyes and to the person beneath. The one who had the strength and determination to change the world.

He hoped, when that person looked back, they could see something similar inside Tadashi.

And it was in that frozen-quiet moment that the air seemed to split open. Tadashi felt himself jolt clear off of the ground as the deep, long, crackling _wail_ flooded through the office. Heads from all corners of the publishing house whipped around to find the source of the noise.

Tadashi found it fast.

His mother had turned, gasping, sniffling, huffing, _sobbing_ , and was rushing for the stairs. In her wake, Iwaizumi was frozen still, torn between worry and embarrassment.

Tadashi leaped toward him, Oikawa right beside him.

Oikawa went before Tadashi could say anything.

“Iwa, what did you do?”

He was only half-joking.

Iwaizumi looked spooked.

“I...I'm sorry, I didn't—”

“Iwaizumi, it's fine,” Tadashi said, still breathless from the leaping steps he'd taken to get here. “Honestly, I...can't explain why, but it's a relief. What did you say to her?”

Iwaizumi took a step sideward so his arm pressed against Oikawa's side.

“We were just talking, honest,” he said. “About you mostly. And everything was great, it was just _mom_ stuff. She was gushing about how happy you look and how much she loves _you—”_ Iwaizumi nodded at Taiga. “But then right at the end she asked me a few questions, and I answered them and she just...broke down.”

Tadashi's heart was still slamming against his rib cage.

“What questions?”

Iwaizumi hunched, like he felt guilty.

“She asked me where my mother was.”

 

***

 

He found her outside, around the corner of the publishing house, sitting on a bench with her head in her hands. There was nobody else around, and Tadashi had insisted on following her alone. He felt like they were the only two people in Japan, surrounded on all sides by an empty, quiet city.

“Mom?” he said.

She started, her entire body jolting like someone had fired a gun next to her ear. When she looked at him, her face was a wet, runny mess of tears and blotchy red skin and deep, deep creases.

He knew this face. It was  _her_ face.

Ramped up to eleven, sure—but he felt like, for the first time in weeks, he could recognize her.

“Oh, Tadashi,” she said, holding out a hand. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to—”

And she lost the words in another bout of sniffling. Deep, wet, uncontrolled breaths that grated all the way down her throat and through her lungs.

He rushed to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

It quickened her breathing.

“I didn't want you to see me like this,” she said.

Tadashi  _almost_ laughed, but the sting in his eyes stopped him.

“Like this?” he said, rubbing her back. “I see you like this all the time!”

“You'll think I'm upset,” she said, still trying to hide her face. “You'll think I'm upset with you.”

“I don't,” he said. “I've been so worried because you haven't cried. I thought you were—”

Her sobs cut him off, and he couldn't help it any more. He felt his chest heave in an out as the heat in his throat got too much to bear. Shallow little breaths shook him as he leaned on his mother.

“I didn't want you to see me like this,” she said.

He wasn't totally sure what she meant, and neither of them were in any state to articulate how they felt. All they had was touch, and the short sentences they could wring out between gasps. His mother kept stroking his face, as though his expression was written in braille and she was reading it over and over.

“I love you,” she said.

Tadashi caught her hand and buried his face in her shoulder.

“I love you, too,” he said.

He'd never felt so relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said at the start, guys, I'm super sorry this is so late. Life has been a real pain just lately (nothing too serious, it's just keeping me from the keyboard!! Super annoying) but things have settled down again finally! There's not much left to go now, so I'm sure it'll all go smoothly from here!


	27. Cover

Their names were Aya and Kaori, and they were the fourth lot to ask Tadashi for a photo since he arrived at Sendai stadium. He bent his knees so he'd be level with their height and ducked between them as they held their phones out and made peace signs with their fingers.

“Ah, thank you so much!” Aya said.

“No problem!” Tadashi said.

“I'm sorry to be a bother, but we promised our friend we'd get some photos with you. One more?” Kaori said, and she held up her copy of Monthly Volleyball. “This time, with this!”

Tadashi saw his own face staring back at him.

The cover.

They'd put him and Oikawa on the  _cover_ of Monthly Volleyball.

The lead story, of course, was the Spring Tournament, but the photo was one of the ones Marcus had taken two weeks ago at the publishing house. Oikawa and Tadashi in their jerseys, hands gripped together, staring at one another with murder in their eyes.

Suddenly, they were the face of the  _entire Spring Tournament_ .

He could imagine how it all came about, too. 'Should we go out and take new photos of the various teams in this year's tournament?' a run-down, unshaven, smoking, droopy-eyed layout editor would've asked himself. 'Or should I just use these photos we already took? That are right here? On my hard drive?'

A day's work, or three mouse clicks?

Tadashi probably would have used this photo, too.

Outside Sendai gym, on the morning of the Spring Tournament,  _everyone_ was clutching a copy of the magazine. People pressing his face to their chests, crumpling him in their hands, stuffing him in their pockets, rolling him up and tucking him under their arms. Back home, he was hanging from his own refrigerator. He was circulating through every relative's inbox as his mother texted and emailed photos of the cover to her entire address book. He was hanging from the notice board in Karasuno's club room. He was being passed around the corridors of the school. There was a stack of twelve of him on the counter at Shimada mart.

He and Oikawa were officially the most prolific gays in Japan.

He smiled for Kaori and let himself feel just a  _bit_ like a rock star.

“Absolutely.”

After a few more clicks and flashes, the two girls finally put their phones away. Aya opened her copy of the magazine to Tadashi's interview—the big headline, 'OUT!', above a different picture of him and Oikawa shaking hands. Their faces were very different in this one. He remembered the moment well.

_I'm glad you came to Sendai that day, Yama_ .

“Is Taiga here today?” Kaori said.

Tadashi laughed.

_Everyone_ wanted to know about Taiga.

“No,” he said. “He's at school, I'm sorry! Cheer for us so we can win, and I'm sure he'll come to nationals.”

“Do you have any other photos of him?” Aya said. “You two are such a cute couple.”

Tadashi threw a glance over their shoulder and spotted the rest of his team. They'd finished unpacking all the gear by now, and were hovering politely by the entrance to the gymnasium. Daichi had his arms folded and an eyebrow up— _when you're quite finished, Yamaguchi._ Tsukki had both their gym bags slung over his shoulder— _when did I become your butler, Tadashi?_ Nishinoya and Tanaka looked like they could barely contain themselves— _since when did you get so popular with girls, Yamaguchi!!_

He rubbed the back of his head.

“I think my captain will yell at me if I take much longer,” he said. “I'm sorry!”

“Oh, yes, yes,” Kaori said. “Please forgive us! We just have to say one last thing.”

“Please?” Aya said.

And they both bowed to him, and he waved a hand at the top of their heads.

“Yes, yes, for sure! No need to be formal.”

When they stood up again, they were wearing very different expressions. They'd been so bubbly up until now, like two excited fans meeting a celebrity. But there was something more serious about the way they exchanged glances with each other. 

“Our friend,” Aya said. “Eito. He came out to us at the start of the year. We showed him your article, and he saw your photo with Taiga, and, well...thank you.”

Kaori nodded.

“Thank you,” she said.

Tadashi's heart fluttered.

“Me? What did I do?”

“You made him smile again,” she said.

Aya nodded. “Mm,” she said. “He'll be so happy we found you.”

Tadashi's jaw locked up.

Aya and Kaori were the fourth lot to ask for a photo today, and the fourth lot to tell him a story like this. It was always short and simple, couched in all those things people do so they'll be less of a bother. 'This is no big deal, but...'. Everyone had a friend. Everyone knew someone.

They all had a story.

“Tell him I said hello,” he said.

“We will!” Aya said, and she swept by him. “Thank you for the photos!”

“Good luck today, Yamaguchi!” Kaori said.

And they took off at a jog toward the gymnasium. They zipped by the rest of the team— _good luck, Karasuno!_ They called—and Tadashi wandered behind them. With every step he took toward his captain, his head lowered a little further.

He got out in front with an apology before Daichi could say anything.

“I'm sorry for the interruption,” he said. 

Daichi looked like he was teetering on the edge of 'annoyed' and 'helpless'. If it'd been someone else causing the hold up—a serial pest like Nishinoya or Hinata—he'd have no trouble decided which side to come down on. Yamaguchi, though? Quiet, shy Yamaguchi?

“It's fine,” Daichi said. “Just remember why we're really here?”

Tadashi's bow deepened.

“Yes, Captain!”

Daichi snorted.

“Okay, come on, everyone,” he said to the group. Tsukki thrust Tadashi's gym bag back at him, and Tadashi took it with a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Our warm up court will be ready.”

They followed Daichi inside, and Tadashi felt a smack on his shoulder.

“Yamaguchi,” Tanaka said. “I think it's only fair you introduce us to your fans next time.”

“Agreed,” Nishinoya said, and he was uncharacteristically serious. “It's your duty as a first year. And besides, you should want your best friends there with you.”

“My best friends, huh?”

“Yes!” Tanaka said. “We've been your friend for _hundreds_ of days now.”

Nishinoya puffed out his chest.

“Plenty of time to make it to 'best' category.”

“Or does team sleeveless mean _nothing_ to you?” Tanaka said.

Daichi was speaking again and, already on thin ice, Tadashi hissed for Noya and Tanaka to be quiet. They were coming up on the entrance to courts five and six—the practice courts.

“All right,” Daichi said. “This is it, everyone. I don't want to make too big a deal out of this, so I'll only say my piece once and then we can get on with it.”

Tadashi felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Probably Taiga. He could wait.

“This is the last tournament of the year,” Daichi said, hands on his hips. Everyone was arranged around him like he was on stage in a tiny, tiny amphitheater. “It's the last tournament Suga and Asahi and I will play in. I suppose most people would be nervous about now if they were in my position. But most people don't know you all like I do.”

Tadashi's phone buzzed again.

It was loud in the tight space, and happened to land right in between Daichi's sentences. He gritted his teeth and thought about diving for it to turn it off.

But no. That'd cause too much of a fuss. It'd be fine as long as it didn't happen again.

“I know how hard you've worked,” Daichi said. “I know we have the prefecture's best setter and best decoy, who combine to become something incredible,” he nodded at Kageyama and Hinata. They puffed up like they were posing for their trading card. 

“We've got two of the most powerful wing spikers in the country,” Daichi said, looking to Asahi and Tanaka. “Not to mention a wall of blockers to rival the iron wall, and a libero who might not even know what the bounce of a ball _sounds_ like.”

Nishinoya laughed and pounded his chest.

“They bounce?”

Daichi returned his grin.

“That's to say nothing of the solid leadership in reserve, and our very own gunslinger waiting in the wings to rescue us if we get into a pinch.”

Tadashi felt himself mimic Kageyama and Hinata, puffing out his chest. Daichi had a way of making you truly believe everything he was saying. Tadashi knew this was a pep talk. That he'd be saying these things even if they  _didn't_ have the best setter and decoy, or a solid wall of blockers, or incredible spikers. 

Or a good pinch server.

But right now, he believed it.

“We're up against strong opponents,” Daichi said. “Kakugawa. Johzenji. Wakutani. We might even get a chance for revenge on Aoba Johsai. And then, looming over them all, Shiratorizawa. All of them are powerful. All of them can knock us out with one victory. Like I said, anyone else would be nervous in my position.”

Daichi lowered his head a little.

“But not me,” he said. “Not with you—”

And right then, right at the  _zenith_ of Daichi's speech, the part that was supposed to land with the most impact...

Tadashi's phone buzzed again.

A vein in Daichi's forehead twitched.

“\--here,” he finished.

Tadashi made like a stone statue as a full-ticking second hung in the air. Nobody knew whose phone it was, but if a full-blown investigation was launched it wouldn't be long until he was found out.

_Somebody say something_ , he thought furiously.  _Someone say something say something say—_

“YESSSS!” Hinata yelled.

Beautiful, noisy, human air horn Hinata.

“WE WON'T LOSE!” Nishinoya joined in.

“We're going to nationals!” Tanaka said.

And eventually everyone was chanting their own response. Even Tsukki, whose lips were always firmly closed in these moments, whispered something to himself.

For his part, Tadashi clenched his right fist.

He let the cheering of his teammates fill him up and used it as fuel to stoke his excitement. It was hard to believe the day was finally here. Hard to believe he'd somehow—through obstacle after obstacle after obstacle—made it all this way.

“I've come so far,” he said, his voice at a regular speaking volume so it'd get lost in the shouts. And though he wasn't sure who he was directing his next words to, they spilled out anyway. “Thank you.”

And then, just when he was riding high on congratulating himself, his phone buzzed again.

_Four times!_ Who the hell was it??

“Fifteen minutes before the first match,” Daichi said. “Let's get warmed up. Anyone needs to use the bathroom, do it now.”

Tadashi whipped around and yanked the phone from his pocket.

He froze when he saw four new messages from Oikawa.

 

_Slip away. Come meet me on level 2. Change room seven. I've got something to show you._

 

And then:

 

_So? See you soon?_

 

And then:

 

_Yes??_

 

And THEN:

 

_Yamayamayamayama pls it's good you'll like it._

 

Tadashi sighed.

_This guy._

He broke away from the group, pretending to follow Hinata, Kageyama and Asahi to the bathroom. Then he ducked around a corner, and typed out a quick reply.

 

_All right, already! I'm on the way._

 

***

 

“I just had to show you,” Oikawa said, bent over his gym bag.

Tadashi took a few steps inside changing room seven, throwing a glance around to check if anyone else was here. There wasn't. Not Iwaizumi, nor anyone else from Aoba Johsai.

...Which was lucky, since Oikawa had emerged from his bag with two handfuls of bright white underwear.

“This!” he said, tossing the pair in his right hand to Tadashi.

His first reaction was to duck away from the flying undies.

“Whoa, what!” he said.

They hit the floor at his feet, and Tadashi searched desperately for signs that these were  _clean_ . From beneath the folds of fabric he could still see the black Midadas tag attached. He blew out a huge sigh and listened to Oikawa chuckling.

“I guessed your size,” he said. “But it's not like it matters if I was wrong. They give you as many pairs as you like when you're an ambassador for Midadas.”

“When you're...” Tadashi said, looking from the undies on the floor to Oikawa's Midadas to t-shirt, to his brand new Midadas gym bag, to his shiny black Midadas volleyball shoes. He was a walking advertisement. “Really!?”

Oikawa grinned and spread his arms.

“We closed the deal yesterday,” he said. “Three years, with an option to extend if I'm invited to play All Japan during that time. Which I _will_ be. I have to be in three commercials a year—one television, two billboard. They say it's rude to talk about money in these cases, Yama, but I think between us I can make an exception, right?”

Oikawa's grin was spreading to Tadashi's face.

Spokesman for Midadas! He'd seen their billboards before, and knew they were the kind of company that liked to put good-looking men in the least amount of their clothes possible. In a weird way, the fewer clothes they put on the model, the  _more_ clothes they sold.

“Let me guess,” Tadashi said. “For all three years...forty million?”

Oikawa's grin twitched up a notch.

“Higher,” he said.

“Fifty?”

“Higher.”

“Really? _Sixty_?”

Oikawa shook his head.

“It _was_ sixty until they got their hands on an advance copy of the article we did. Then they revised up.”

“To what?”

Oikawa looked like he was about to explode.

“ _Eighty-five_ ,” he said.

Tadashi  _really did_ explode.

“Eighty-five!” he said, the words bursting out of him on the back of barking laugh. “Are you serious?”

Oikawa sat heavily on the bench he was standing in front of, one hand propped up on his Midadas bag.

“Completely serious!” he said. “On the condition—get this—that at least five million a year is spent on education and training programs for LGBT youth in sport.”

Tadashi kept laughing.

Oikawa was laughing, too. Deep, huffing, body-shaking laughter that carried all through the room. If anyone was walking past right now, they'd wonder what comedian was doing a stand-up gig in changing room seven.

“So...what you wanted all along?”

Oikawa nodded.

“It's more than even I hoped for,” he said. “Dad and I have done some calculations. For twenty million a year, we can personally run two courses in Tokyo and one right here in Miyagi. _And_ we can produce and distribute materials for volunteers in every single prefecture.”

“Does that leave much for you?”

“For the Oikawas of Miyagi?” he said, and shook his head. “We don't need it. Not when there are others who do.”

Tadashi's throat was dry as he tried to think of something to say.

Oikawa's head lulled to the side.

“People like Michiko at the youth center,” he said. “I think a few million here and there could really help them out. They do good work, they shouldn't have to worry about money.”

“Really?” Tadashi said. “You're not taking _any_?”

“Well, you know,” Oikawa said. “A bit for travel. I'll be pretty busy going back and forth between Tokyo and Sendai for a while. There's trains and hotels and whatnot. But it'll be worth it! First off, we...”

Oikawa started.

They didn't have a lot of time, but Oikawa managed to cover it all. Laid all his plans out in bullet points, checking them off his fingers as he went. Meetings with the department of education in Tokyo to develop an eight week program that runs concurrently with PE in high schools. Seminars with experts from overseas to train the volunteers to teach that program in half the country's schools on a trial basis with a view to nationwide implementation. Anti-bullying modules built right into the curriculum. Online and in-person support systems to provide specialized help for any of the QUILTBAG letters that needed it for whatever reason.

And with each bullet point, Tadashi's eyes misted a little more.

By the time Oikawa finished, he felt like he was buried beneath an avalanche of good news.

“This is...” Tadashi said, but couldn't finish the thought. “I mean, you're...”

“Amazing?” Oikawa said. “Famous? Handsome? Stop me when I hit the word you're searching for. Incredible? Ah! I know! _Inimitable_.”

“Well, you are that,” he said.

They both settled back into laughing for a moment.

_He did it_ , Tadashi thought.  _He actually changed how the world works._

Oikawa sat up a little straighter, eyebrows pricking up like he'd just remembered something.

“Oh, Iwa will kill me if I don't ask,” Oikawa said. “How's your mother doing?”

Tadashi shook himself out of his stupor.

“Ah, yeah,” Tadashi said. “We did sort of take off pretty quickly that day, huh?”

Oikawa was really polite to ignore the understatement. Tadashi and his mother had spent the rest of that day in a puddle of tears, hugs and emotions. When his father and Taiga had eventually followed them, they'd traded hug partners and spread the tears evenly between the four of them. 

Even his  _father,_ for chrissakes. The last time he'd cried was when he'd checked his retirement fund during the global financial crisis of 2008.

Tadashi had just enough composure left to apologize to Oikawa, Oikawa Senior and Iwaizumi before they'd legged it back to Torono in their feelings box of a car. In those four hours, they'd talked and laughed and cried a bunch more. They all felt it. It was like they'd built up enough pressure these last few weeks to finally clear a blockage. His mother's outburst had been more than enough to blast it free, like a cork from a champagne bottle.

“Tell Iwaizumi she's fine,” he said. “Actually, _more_ than fine, and I should thank him for that. She'd been...” he trailed off and smiled as he remembered the way she'd explained it. “She was keeping a lid on things because she didn't want me to see her upset and think it was my fault. But if you know her, that's just weird.”

“Went into shutdown, huh?” Oikawa said.

“Yeah, exactly,” Tadashi said. “And that day, she finally came back to me. It was such a relief, I can't even explain. I'm just sorry Iwaizumi got caught pulling the trigger.”

Oikawa waved a dismissive hand.

“If he can put up with me, Yama, he can handle a cathartic outburst from an emotional mother. He'll be glad to hear she's doing better.”

“ _Better_ than better,” Tadashi said before he realized how stupid it sounded. “Er...”

Oikawa laughed.

“He'll be thrilled to hear she's more than fine and better than better. It'll make him feel greater than great. Happier than happy.”

Tadashi rolled his eyes.

He bent down to pick up the underwear from the floor. It was a medium—for a size thirty waist, which was just a bit bigger than the pants he wore. The elastic would probably fit him just fine. He turned them over and over in his hands a few times, then pointed at Oikawa with them.

“You're making it really hard for me to walk out of here as your enemy,” he said. “But I guess that's how it has to be, huh. Spring Tournament and all that.”

Oikawa laughed again.

“There are a lot of eyes on us, Yama,” he said, and he picked himself up off the bench and slung his bag across his shoulder. He looked like he was already striking a model's pose for his Midadas billboard. “That means we have to do our best. We're not just doing it for us, now. We made ourselves an example, and we owe it to everyone to be exemplary.”

Tadashi swallowed as he thought back to this morning.

To Aya and Kaori. To their friend, Eito. To the three other groups who'd told him they were cheering for him because of what he'd said in the article.

For what he represented.

“Yes,” he said. “I know. I won't lose.”

Oikawa smiled, and made for the door.

“Neither will I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO close to the end now! This was one of those chapters where an idea came to me about how I could've re-structured the entire story but it's now too late, haha. But it does make me think that if there's ever a complete revision (probably!), I'd be able to make things a lot more tight. 
> 
> In any case I hope you enjoyed! Next week: WILL KARASUNO ADVANCE THROUGH THEIR FIRST ROUND? WILL TADASHI AND OIKAWA FACE OFF AGAINST ONE ANOTHER? WILL TADASHI'S UNDERWEAR FIT?? Find out next week!


	28. Third Domino

Tadashi wasn't called to serve on the first day.

And he wasn't called to serve on the second, either.

The  _frustrating_ truth was that his teammates were excellent at volleyball, and they only ever needed a pinch server when they were in trouble. So far, the closest they'd come was a three set stretch against Wakutani high. Even that, they'd wound up winning easily in the third  set . Somewhere around the middle of the game, Tadashi had resigned himself to being sidelined until tomorrow.

And for every point played, he felt anxiety gradually build up. Like a rubber band that was being pulled just a tiny bit further, until it was skinny and white and tearing at the sides, waiting to snap back and sting him.

Their four games for the day were done, and he and Tsukki were leaned against a wall in the corridor of the display court. Most of the team was still inside, waiting to see who they'd play tomorrow. Tadashi had escaped out here a while back, where it was more peaceful and he could hear himself think.

They were out of second-tier and rough-around-the-edges opponents to bulldoze. The final match of the day was wrapping up on the display court right now—a three set thriller between two of the prefecture's most talented teams. Tomorrow morning, Karasuno would be up against whoever won:

Aoba Johsai or Date Tech.

Either team was a challenge. Date Tech were famous for their Iron Wall of blockers that could keep just about anyone from scoring, and Aoba Johsai were...well, Aoba Johsai. Led by the unbelievably smart Oikawa and filled out by some of the most polished players in the country. Even if Karasuno played their absolute best, tomorrow was going to be grueling.

But that wasn't why Tadashi's hands were clenched up.

It wasn't why he was squinting against the snapback of that imaginary rubber band. It wasn't why he could feel his lunch churning through his stomach and trying to creep back up his throat. It wasn't why he was letting himself treat 'fate' like a person he could plead with, and ask favors of.

_Please_ ,  _fate_ , he begged. As though fate had even been interested in what he wanted. As though fate might pick this one time to pack away its sick sense of humor and show him some kindness.  _Please let it be Date Tech_ .

“If I know you,” Tsukki said, so quietly and yet so close it made Tadashi jump, “you're thinking, 'please don't let it be Seijoh'.”

Tadashi sighed.

“Wrong,” he said. “I'm thinking 'please let it be Date Tech'.”

“I'm going to go ahead and give myself partial credit for that guess,” Tsukki said. “For what it's worth, I don't want to fight them, either.”

The corner of Tadashi's mouth twitched into a little smile.

“I'm sure we can beat them this time,” he said.

“Maybe,” Tsukki said. “But that's not it, is it?”

Tadashi blew out a long, long sigh.

“No,” he said.

A round of cheers went up from inside the court, wafting through the corridor from behind the closed doors. Tadashi could hear the cheer squads for both teams competing with each other, their chants getting louder and louder.

“I don't know if I want to win, Tsukki,” he said. “If it means he loses.”

“Mm,” Tsukki said.

“Is that stupid?”

“Mm,” Tsukki said again.

“Mm?”

“Non-committal noise,” Tsukki said. “Depends who you ask. Ask our simpleton first year teammates, they'll say yes. They'll be right. You're supposed to want to win. It's sport. There's no point to it if you don't want to win.”

Tadashi sniffed.

“I'm asking you, though,” he said.

Tsukki let silence answer first. Then:

“It's very 'you',” he said. “And it's very human. If we win, Oikawa loses his last chance to go to Nationals. And you'll feel like the wrong person won, because you don't think you're a good enough stand-in for him as a role model. But you're wrong.”

Tadashi snorted.

Then again. And again, until it turned into a gentle laugh.

“So in other words,” he said, “yes, it's stupid.”

Tsukki fought his smile down to an almost non-frown.

“Mm.”

Off to their left, the doors to the display court burst open and the sound from inside flooded the corridor. Tadashi squinted against it, caught off-guard by the sudden wall of sound. When he spotted an unruly mop of bright orange hair striding through it, he braced himself for news.

_Please let it be Date Tech_ ...

“Are you two not watching?” Hinata said. “It's getting exciting in there.”

“It's not over yet?” Tadashi said.

“20-19 to Seijoh,” Hinata said. “Final set.”

“Then why aren't _you_ watching?” Tsukki said. “Isn't this kind of thing like catnip to you?”

“Do cats like catnip, or hate it?” he said. “If they like it then yes it is like that. But I have a message to give to Yamaguchi, so...”

“Hm, well,” Tsukki said, nestling in to the wall and closing his eyes. “Don't let me interrupt.”

Hinata stood there, fist clenching around his phone.

“ _Just_ Yamaguchi,” he said, and flicked his eyes to Tadashi. “Please.”

The moment hung in the air for a second as Tsukki brought glowing red eyes to bear on Hinata's steel-set face. Tadashi wondered if he should step between them. Wondered if he'd even  _survive_ it.

Then all at once, Tsukki unpeeled himself from the wall and swept past them both. He held up his right hand.

“Fine,” he said. “I'll report back with the score.”

He disappeared through the display court doors, the sound of the crowd on the other side flaring loud, then going quiet again.

Tadashi turned back to Hinata, who was making a face. All clouded over and pinched together. It was the sort of face you made when you were trying not to look scared, but were in fact  _super goddamn scared_ . Like when you're afraid of flying and hit turbulence, but for some reason nobody else thinks it's a big deal, so you try to pretend you also think it's not a big deal.

He was still clutching his phone like he was holding a pin in a grenade.

“Hinata?” Tadashi said. “Are you okay?”

“Fff—” he started, gathering steam with a puff of air. “First, please promise you won't tell anyone else!”

Tadashi's heart slammed into gear, and he straightened up off the wall. He felt an incredible urge to reach out and try and calm Hinata down.

“Of course!” he said. “Hinata, of course, I—”

“Yamaguchi!” he said, bowing his head low. “I need help. And I've been wanting to say something but I couldn't because I promised, but just today he said I'm allowed, so please. Help me! I don't know what I'm doing!”

The only thing stopping Tadashi from leaping backwards was the wall, which he pressed his back in to as hard as he could. It wasn't that Hinata was yelling. He just had a way of getting intense, and that intensity seemed to make his words crackle with energy. Tadashi felt like he was standing in front of a box of fireworks that had just caught fire.

“Hinata!” he said, reaching out but stopping just short of touching him. Something about him was giving off a startled animal vibe, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare him away. “It's okay! I'll help! What's wrong?”

Hinata snapped up, and looked spooked.

“Nothing's wrong!” he said. “I just don't...well here, I'll show you. I have a message to give you from Kenma. Please read it!”

And he held out his phone at full arm's length.

Tadashi gaped at it.

“Are you sure you want me to read your messages—”

“Please,” Hinata said. “It'll be easier.”

Tadashi took the phone with shaking fingers.

It was an older flip phone, and he had to use the keypad to scroll through the messages and select each one. He brought the cursor down to the most recent message and opened it. It felt wrong to dig inside someone else's messages—like he was peeking through Hinata's bedroom window or something.

The message was dated this morning.

 

_When you see Yamaguchi today could you thank him for me? For what he said to me at the last training camp and everything he's done since. I promise to call you after qualifiers. We'll talk._

 

Tadashi's heart ba-dumped when he read it.

“Oh,” he said. “That's really nice of him to say. Please tell him it's my pleasure.”

Hinata's face was going red.

“Please keep going. The two messages before.”

Tadashi's heartbeat was so strong it was pulsing all the way down his arms and into the pads of his fingers. He backed out of the message, and went up one further. This one was dated last night.

 

_Sorry Shouyou, I'm okay, please don't worry. I'll call soon._

 

And the one before, dated a few days ago. The same day the  _Monthly Volleyball_ issue was released.

 

_Shouyou, I know this is awkward and sudden but I wanted to tell you. Please don't call or anything. I'm not up to talking about it just yet. I just needed to say it. I'm gay. I hope that's okay. Sorry its a text. Thanks. Sorry._

 

Tadashi wanted to put his hand across his chest.

He couldn't stop himself from flicking over to the sent messages folder. In the time since Kenma had sent that first message, there were  _dozens_ .

 

_kenma pls pick up!_

 

_kenma! yes its okay of course its okay duh. pls answer!_

 

_kenmakenmakenmaaaaaa_

 

_is this normal quiet or r u upset? just tell me that_

 

_DONT WORRY?? IM ONLY WORRIED BECAUES U WONT ANSNER THE PHONE!_

 

_okay sorry sorry i got excited u know how i get like that u dont have to answer the phone. but I might check again soon just in case ok?_

 

And the outgoing calls.

At least twelve of them.

All unanswered.

Tadashi looked up, and saw Hinata's wobbling line of a mouth, and the faint red tinge in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, Hinata,” he said.

The urge took over, and he stepped forward to put his hand on Hinata's shoulder. Hinata didn't move except for one  _tiny_ , almost unnoticeable hiccup. He kept his eyes steady, and when he spoke Tadashi could hear the way he was trying to be strong.

“Did I do anything wrong?” he said. “I'm sorry to come to you like this but how do I tell him its okay? He won't answer the phone and that's...that's because he's Kenma and he never answers the phone anyway. He hates it. He always said he hates talking on the phone. But if I can't talk to him then I can't tell him it's okay, and I can't _stand_ that he might think I'd _think_ that!”

The way Hinata was almost crying made Tadashi want to cry, too. He didn't, though. That was out of the question. This wasn't a time he was allowed to let that side of himself take over.

“You've done nothing wrong,” he said. And his voice was _firm_. More firm than he'd heard it in a long time. “Hinata, Kenma doesn't think that about you. I promise. Not after all these messages and calls.”

Hinata's lip trembled.

“Then why won't he talk to me?”

Tadashi's brain starting flashing images at him. From the very first time they'd met Nekoma, Hinata and Kenma had been an inseparable pair. They were so opposite. Tadashi would never have picked them for friends in a thousand years.

It was what people thought about him and Tsukki.

And if there was one thing being friends with Tsukki had taught him, it was how to read in to the tiniest of gestures.

“I don't know him very well, but I spoke to him at our Tokyo camp. To me, he doesn't seem like the type to talk about himself much. Right?”

Hinata shook his head.

“Hardly ever.”

“Right,” Tadashi said. “So he's doing two really hard things at the same time. He's talking about himself, and he's telling you something that's hard to say. I think all he wants right now is for you to hear it, and I think all you have to do is listen. That's it! And you did that.”

Hinata swallowed a great, big, protruding lump in his throat.

“I don't feel like it's enough.”

Tadashi smiled at him.

“It is,” he said. “Trust me.”

Hinata's head lulled back on his neck.

“Aghhh,” he said. “It isn't fair. He shouldn't have to feel like this.”

“I know,” Tadashi said. And he thought back to Oikawa's beaming face in the change room a few days ago, and their gripped-together hands on the cover of _Monthly Volleyball. “_ But it's changing. Slowly. We'll get there.”

Hinata sniffed.

“I didn't do anything bad?” he said. “Kenma doesn't hate me?”

Tadashi squeezed his shoulder.

“No. Of course he doesn't.”

And deep down, Tadashi suspected it was probably very much the opposite.

But that was a discussion for another time.

Hinata took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said.

Then a deeper breath, and a louder:

“Okay. Thank you, Yamaguchi.”

Tadashi let go of him, and folded his arms.

“It's nothing,” he said. “And if you want to talk about anything, or have questions, just come to me any time. You're a good friend, Hinata. Kenma is lucky to have you.”

“And you,” Hinata said.

And he bowed.

“Thank you!” 

Tadashi recoiled from the suddenly loud voice, and laughed to himself. There he was. Regular Hinata. Drained of a bit of that pent-up stress, he was reverting right back to his noisy, sun-shiney self.

Right then, the crowd sounds hit a peak. The cheers echoed all around the display court, and they carried on for a lot longer than usual. It could only mean one thing.

The game was over.

The crowd noises got louder as Tsukki swung the doors open.

He strode into the corridor, hands on his hips.

Tadashi put on his most pathetically hopeful face.

“Date Tech?” he said.

Tsukki's eyebrow twitched up.

“What do _you_ think?”

And Tadashi's shoulders drooped, and his head fell, and he sagged back against the corridor wall.

“Ah, _shit_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, so, I wasn't sure how far I wanted to take Kenma in this. But then I realized it was only because I didn't want to step on anyone's preferred headcanon, and that's kind of a rubbish way to shape a story, right? And so I went with the theme of the story. This is what I'd planned to do all along. Have Kenma represent the next step in all the struggle that first Oikawa, then Tadashi went through. The entire goal of OUT is to illustrate how one person's actions bump into the next, and how a little change can snowball into a big one. For that reason I've concretely labelled Kenma gay. I'm super sorry if it doesn't gel with everyone! It's a personal thing, I know.
> 
> Holy crap guys not long now! Let's wrap this baby up!


	29. The Pinch

Tadashi's first surprise of the day came right before he walked through the front door of Sendai gymnasium. It was the best kind of surprise, too. The kind that makes the lingering nastiness of a shaky, nauseous, nervous bus trip disappear all at once, and revives every bit of joy that was buried beneath it.

All because of that beautiful, pretty,  _cheeky_ smile.

“Taiga!” he said.

Taiga jogged forward, his arms spread out to either side of him.

“Huh?” Nishinoya said, pointing. “What are you doing here?”

Taiga ignored his cousin and kept rushing forward until he collided with Tadashi, chest-to-chest. Tadashi had to spin on the spot to absorb the impact of the hug. A full-speed hug. A battering ram of a hug.

“I skipped school,” he said, right at Tadashi's ear. “I'm deathly ill.”

And to underscore it, he puffed out two long, wheezing,  _pathetically_ fake coughs.

Off to the edge of the group, Mr Takeda put his head down.

“I can't see this,” he said. “I...I never saw this.”

He hurried away, and Tadashi lowered Taiga to the ground.

“You skipped to come and watch us?” 

“No, you misheard me,” Taiga said, and coughed again. “I am _deathly ill_.”

“That's your story and you're sticking to it, huh?”

“That's right, but don't worry,” he said, waving toward the entrance. Tadashi followed his fingers and, for the first time, spotted Kyoshi and Kagame standing by the doors. They looked bored, but they were musicians and 'bored' was their resting state.

“Kyoshi and Kagame are sick, too,” he said. “And it's not the kind of sickness that stops you from cheering and chanting. Or traveling to Sendai. Lucky, right?”

Tadashi laughed and wrapped Taiga in another tight hug.

Beside him, he heard Nishinoya's satisfied voice.

“A makeshift cheer squad, huh? We'll take everything we can get!”

Then Tanaka.

“My sister will be here,” he said. “She's plenty loud.”

Coach Ukai joined in from further away.

“Shimada and Takinoue are coming, too.”

And finally, barely audible, Tsukki.

“I think Akiteru will be here.”

Taiga laughed, shaking against Tadashi.

“Well, then,” he said, stepping back. “It's not exactly the Karasuno stage band, choir and drama clubs, but I'll do what I can with them. We'll be singing four-part harmony by the middle of the second set. Seijoh will wonder who invited _Queen_ to the Spring Tournament.”

“Ahhh,” Suga said. “It's going to be great to have our cheer squad back again.”

“Right, right,” Coach Ukai said. “For the game that starts in half an hour. Come on, let's go inside. Yamaguchi...don't be long.”

Tadashi let go of Taiga and snapped to attention.

“Yes, Coach,” he said.

The team filtered away and left them there, alone amongst the morning crowd of spectators that were slowly making their way to the stadium.

Taiga smiled at Tadashi. The way he had right before he'd helped him write the Pinch_Server_GC comment at the bottom of Oikawa's article all those months ago. Tadashi loved this smile—it always came right before one of Taiga's amazing, mature, down-to-earth bits of advice. If history was anything to go by, whatever he said next would be perf—

“Ready to beat Oikawa's ass?” Taiga said.

Tadashi's laugh echoed all around the entrance to the stadium.

_Perfect_ .

“I'm happy it's not up to me,” he said. “I still think it's better if he's the one who goes to Nationals. For the...narrative, you know. But it's Karasuno versus Seijoh. Not me versus Oikawa.”

“Aw,” Taiga said. “You sound so mature.”

“Well, I turn sixteen in two weeks,” he said. “It's to be expected.”

“Just don't forget to feel happy when you win,” Taiga said.

“When we win,” Tadashi said.

“When you win,” Taiga said.

They were standing so close—close enough for a quick kiss. No-one would notice. No-one would care. Their heads were even angled the right way. It was like they'd subconsciously gone through a pre-kiss checklist and met all the criteria, and now all they had to do was  _twitch_ and they'd be doing it. That little giddy rush crept into Tadashi's gut, and he was about to lean in.

“Ahh!” A girl's voice broke the moment.

Tadashi and Taiga snapped their heads around.

He recognized the group of three girls headed his way—they'd spoken to him on the first day. Or maybe the second day. They were Shiratorizawa supporters, but they'd become unofficial Karasuno fans since reading Monthly Volleyball They'd asked him a ton of questions about what it's like being out of the closet, and what Oikawa was like, but by far the thing they were most interested in was...

“It's Taiga!” one of them said. “He's here!”

“Taiga!” one of the others said. 

Tadashi bit back on a laugh as he looked at Taiga's bewildered face.

“Your fans are here,” he told him.

“My...fans?”

Tadashi stepped back and bowed to the girls, flinging his arm toward Taiga.

“He's all yours, ladies,” he said. “Coach is waiting for me.”

“Guchi-chan,” Taiga said, in the same tone of voice his mother used when she was mad. Her _Yamaguchi Tadashi, clean your room this instant_ voice.  “Are you throwing me to the wolves?”

“Yeah, but...” Tadashi trailed off as the three girls got closer, pressing in around Taiga like he was a painting at an art gallery. _Can we have a photo! Are you really a musician!? Can you sing something for us?_ “They're such cute wolves.”

He took off for the entrance to the gymnasium, giggling.

 

 

 

***

 

 

Tadashi's second surprise of the day came when the whistle blew at the end of the first set.

Asahi had launched himself into the air and spiked with enough force to measure on the Richter scale. Seijoh's number thirteen, Kunimi, winced against the impact as he threw himself underneath the ball. It collided with his knee and careened off into the stands like he'd shot it from a cannon.

The scorekeepers flipped the numbers and updated the set counts.

25-23.

First set to Karasuno.

“I can't believe we took the first,” Tadashi said.

“Me either!” Suga said.

He could've gone around the stadium, asked everyone individually—they'd all say the same thing. Karasuno wasn't supposed to be in front already. But Hinata and Kageyama had learned a few new tricks in Tokyo, and Tsukki was blocking anything that came near him, and Asahi and Tanaka had improved out of sight over the last few months. Since the exhibition match, everyone seemed to have something extra up their sleeve, and it was enough to earn them the first set of the day.

Up in the stands, Taiga had their cheer squad off to a noisy start.

 

_Karasuno, Fly! Karasuno, Fly! All the way to Tokyo! Leave these guys behind!_

 

Everyone gathered on the sideline and it was Kageyama—not Daichi—who addressed the team.

“Be careful,” he said. “Remember the exhibition match. The further behind Oikawa gets, the more dangerous he is. We have no more surprises for them. We've played every trick. The score board might list us in front, but don't believe it. We are _level_.”

“This guy,” Tanaka said, slapping Kageyama hard on the back. “Have you ever met someone _this_ intense?”

Tadashi saw it, though.

He looked at the Seijoh huddle and he  _saw_ it was true.

Oikawa's players gathered around him like he was Moses with two stone tablets in hand. He pointed to each of them in turn, his face a perfect mix of friendliness and professionalism. A teacher patiently explaining to a class full of children exactly what steps to take to solve the problem in front of them.

When the teams returned to the court, Oikawa took up a position to serve.

He bounced the ball once, twice, three times. Threw it into the air. Jumped.

There was an incredible  _crack_ , and something weird happened with time.

It was like it stopped for a second. Oikawa drifted back to the ground, feet planted and posed like a hero from a comic movie. But the ball was nowhere. Everyone stood still as they tried to figure out what happened. They'd  _heard_ him strike the ball, but then it just...vanished.

The referee blew the whistle.

Tadashi gaped as the scorekeepers recorded a point for Seijoh.

“What the hell?” he said.

“O...over there,” Suga said, pointing.

And there, in the far corner of the stadium— _miles_ away—was a lonesome volleyball.

Tadashi's heart skipped.

Oikawa had hit it  _so_ hard and  _so_ fast, Tadashi hadn't even seen the ball on its way to the other side of the stadium. Hadn't seen it in the air. Hadn't seen it bounce in-bounds. It was like Oikawa'd teleported it from his hand to the opposite side of the gym.

Tadashi saw the edges of Oikawa's mouth twitch up.

“One more,” he said, calling for a fresh ball.

Suga sighed.

“Kageyama was right,” he said.

“Scary,” Tadashi said.

_Bang!_ Oikawa slammed another serve into the court, just as hard and fast as the last one. Tadashi knew what was coming this time and  _still_ he had trouble following the course of the ball. Daichi and Nishinoya looked between themselves. Neither had time to move.

_Bang!_ Another point.

“What's with this serve!” Tadashi said. “Where was it in the first set?”

“It's really intense,” Suga said. “Maybe he needs to warm up to it. Get his body loose enough for it during the first set and unleash it in the second.”

_BANG_ .

Four points to nothing.

Tadashi clenched his fists and tensed his thighs.

Feelings and thoughts thunked through his head, beating on his temples and grating on the inside of his skull. Was this...good? Was he happy about this? He wanted Oikawa to play his best, and didn't  _really_ want to see him lose a chance at Nationals...right? Was that it? If that was it, then why was he sweating? Why was his heart thumping and blood boiling like he was teetering on the edge of a great big cliff?

_Bang!_

Finally, Oikawa made a mistake.

He loosed his serve with so much power that it sailed over the baseline. The ball knocked three chairs over on its way to the far end of the gym, and the official that righted them had to check the legs were still attached.

Tadashi watched the next few points unfold as an arm wrestle. For every point Karasuno managed to score, Aoba Johsai scored right back. On it went, one-for-one. 4-2. 5-2. 5-3. 6-3. Things were scrappier, now. More desperate. He felt like he was watching a war movie—his teammates trying to storm a beach under enemy fire.

And then, five short rotations later...

He was back.

Oikawa, on the baseline again.

Still three points in the lead. Ten points to Seven.

Calling for the ball.

“Agh,” Suga said. “I can't watch.”

_Bang_ . Eleven points to seven.

_Bang_ . Twelve.

_BANG_ . Thirteen.

“Time out!” Mr Takeda called from the bench.

The whistle blew, and Oikawa reluctantly stood down. As Karasuno filtered off the court, he stayed on his mark. A few steps this way and that, but never moving from the spot. He was a panther stalking beneath a tree, waiting for the prey he'd scared up there to fall back to the ground.

“Stay calm,” Coach Ukai began. “I know that serve seems like a—”

But he was cut off by a sudden, shrill noise from the stands.

“Yuu!” two voices in unison called down.

Tadashi flicked his head around to see Taiga, hands cupped around his mouth. Next to him, Tanaka's sister Saeko was doing the same.

Taiga turned to the rag-tag group of supporters he'd assembled.

“Just like we practiced!” he told them.

 

_Better men have tried! Better men have failed! Every single time, Nishinoya has prevailed!_

 

The cheer was like a wave of pure energy, and Nishinoya seemed to absorb it straight from the air.

“I can do it!” he said, sticking his thumb into his chest. “I _can_. I've been following his line. I can see how he's moving. I'm fast enough. I just need three—”

 

_Nishinoya Yuu! Nishinoya Yuu! Saved the day before, and he'll do it this time, too!_

 

Tadashi watch Nishinoya's smile double in size.

“ _Two_ more attempts,” he finished. “I can do it.”

Coach Ukai snorted and folded his arms.

“I know you can,” he said, and stepped backward to address the entire team. “This isn't magic. It's not a superpower. It's training, and force, and speed. At the end of the day, it's still a volleyball. And volleyballs can't break through walls, and they can't bounce if you don't let them.

“So block and cover,” he said. “And don't let them take this set!”

“Yes, Coach!” they all said.

And as they broke away, Coach Ukai pulled Tadashi up.

“Yamaguchi,” he said.

Tadashi went rigid.

“Yes?”

“Be ready,” he said. “Sometimes the only way to answer a great serve is with another great serve.”

Tadashi swallowed, bowed, and jogged back to the players reserve bench. Oikawa was still stalking on the service line, his team in position already. His momentum was physically broken, but he hadn't lost a bit of the intensity in his eyes. Tadashi wondered if he could even see anything other than the ball in his hands and the other side of the court.

“Do you think Nishinoya can really figure it out in two more serves?” Tadashi said.

Suga smiled.

“Put it this way,” he said. “The only thing Nishinoya loves more than saving the day is doing it while people chant for him. If anyone in Miyagi can do it...”

He trailed off as Oikawa tossed the ball.

_BANG_ .

The ball slammed into Nishinoya's forearm and side, catapulting off into the stands.

14-7.

Tadashi studied Noya's face as he returned to his starting position. It was hard to read—for someone so noisy off the court, Noya was weirdly quiet and calm when he was waiting to receive. But he didn't look afraid. He didn't look even slightly nervous.

Tadashi, meanwhile, was crushing his thumb between his own fingers.

_Come on...come on..._

Oikawa tossed the ball.

It cracked from his palm, sizzled through the air...

And Nishinoya appeared beneath it. He was mostly on the ground, his butt and entire left side sliding across the polished floor. But his forearms were flat. They were angled just right so his joints could absorb the impact. The ball  _slapped_ against his skin, reddened it, maybe even tore it. 

But it went up.

The crowd erupted as though Karasuno just won the set.

Tadashi screamed, almost as loud as Suga.

“NICE RECEIVE!!”

Daichi settled the play, sent it to Kageyama, who linked with Hinata. Their fastest, smoothest quick attack Tadashi had ever seen.

Point Karasuno.

14-8.

The team rushed to Nishinoya's side, petting him like he was the world's most faithful dog. Tadashi felt Suga's arm grip his shoulder as he tried to stay upright, a theatrical sigh rushing out of him.

“This team,” Suga said. “You're bad for my heart.”

Tadashi let his Senpai lean on him as Asahi took up a position to serve.

Six points behind.

There was no way he wouldn't be serving this time.

 

***

 

Tadashi's third surprise of the day was a bad one.

At 22-15 in Aoba Johsai's favor, Oikawa sent the ball to Iwaizumi. Iwa leaped for it, charging up his spiking arm with every skerrick of power he could muster. Tsukki and Kageyama went up for the block, there was a deafening pair of cracks, and then:

“ _Shit.”_

Tadashi grabbed his chest.

He'd never heard Tsukki swear so loudly before.

Tsukki swore all the time, but subtly. Under his breath. When it was funny, or when it made sense, or when it was going to magnify the point he was making. This was nothing like that.

This was pure, unfiltered pain.

The whistle blew, and Mr Takeda called a time out.

“Tsukki!” Tadashi said, rushing forward. “Are you all right?”

He was cradling the fingers on his left hand. They weren't bleeding and they weren't bent the wrong way, but Tadashi could see a purple bruise welling up between his index and middle finger already.

“I...I think it's all right,” he said.

“Mm-mm,” Coach Ukai shook his head. “A spike like that can cause a ton of damage if it contacts awkwardly. You need to get it looked at.”

“If I could get some tape—”

“Nursing station,” Coach said firmly.

“I can take him,” Tadashi said.

“No you can't,” Coach said. “Tsukishima's block won us the point, and he was due to serve. You'll take his place. Sugawara, you go.”

“Yes, Coach,” Suga said, pushing Tsukki in front of him. “Come on. The quicker we go, the quicker you're back.”

“Mmmm,” Tsukki said, still biting back on the pain.

Tadashi took a few steps after Tsukki, still too shaken to take in everything that was going on. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Tsukki's fingers, and the worry in him was making Coach's words process a lot slower than normal.

Tsukki to the nurses' station.

Yamaguchi to serve.

Yamaguchi...to serve.

Somewhere behind him, a whistle blew. He heard Mr Takeda tell the officials about the player substitution. He felt his teammates file past him, back toward the court.

“Yamaguchi,” Coach said. 

Tadashi jolted.

Coach was looking at him sidelong.

“When your serve is up,” he said, hands cupping the back of his own neck, “I want you to stay out there.”

“Right,” Tadashi said without thinking. Then “Wait, _what_?”

Coach's eyes were closed.

“I know,” he said. “It's not our usual tactic, but with Tsukishima gone, our block wall loses a lot of height. You're the next tallest we have. Hit as many aces as you've got in you. Then get as forward as you can as quickly as you can. Stop them from scoring.”

Tadashi's brain was filled with white noise.

“But coach, surely Sugawara or Enn—”

“Maybe,” Coach cut him off. “But this isn't their game.”

“It...isn't?”

Coach smiled, and opened his eyes.

“You'll see. Get out there.”

From the ground next to the bench, Coach plucked a volleyball with one hand and tossed it to him. Tadashi caught it between his palms. The jolt was like an echo all the way through him, chasing out the fuzziness in his head and the haze in his eyes.

His fingers tightened around the ball.

“Right,” he said.

He turned on the spot, and made for the sideline. The official held up a hand to make the substitution legal, and blew his whistle one more time. Tadashi took a deep breath, and stepped up to the edge of the court.

He could hear them.

The voices buzzing in the crowd.

It was like a swarm of insects, off in the distance but getting closer all the time. Indistinct whispers that built up and up and  _up_ until eventually there was a steady wall of sound. It was like someone had built a small fire in up in the stands, and as it got hotter more kindling caught fire. More voices joined in. Got louder.

He could swear he heard his name.

_Tadashi_ here.  _Yamaguchi_ there.

Coming from all around him.

But it was Taiga's voice, alone, that kicked everything off.

 

_You've seen him in your magazines! You've seen him on your TV!_

 

Then the rest of Karasuno's tiny, makeshift cheer squad kicked in.

 

_Now see him right in front of you, Tadashi Yamaguchi!_

 

And Tadashi flushed red, because the verses kept coming and he couldn't hear them over the sound of the crowd. Taiga's voice barely made it over the clapping and shouting, and even then Tadashi strained to hear the words he was chanting. Something about 'serve' and 'country', and then definitely his name as the rest of the cheer squad joined in.

He almost lost balance as he looked around the stands.

“Yamaguchi!” two people he didn't even know called to him. “Hit a good one!”

Beside them, a row of men in their fifties slapped their hands together.

Behind them, four girls holding up their copies of Monthly Volleyball and waving them about.

He looked around a full 360 degrees and saw the whole gymnasium filled with it. Noise and smiles and support. From friends, from strangers, from  _everyone_ .

And then, finally, his eyes settled on the other side of the court.

Oikawa was stooped low, in a ready position to receive the serve. He still looked intense, still looked determined, still looked  _scary_ , with one exception. It was tiny, but Tadashi could see it. The little up-ticked corner of his mouth. The way his face couldn't quite keep his happiness sealed up on the inside.

_I told you, didn't I?_ His face said.  _All it takes is a second domino._

He snorted, and pressed the ball between his hands.

He made it to the service line and took up his position. The crowd's noise began to settle, and he was left alone to concentrate. There was no time left to think about it, or decide how he felt. This was it.

The whistle blew, and Tadashi let out all the air in him.

Before he had time to over-think it, he tossed the ball.

Was he really doing this?

Did he really want to win?

His palm  _bopped_ the ball, and it streaked away from him. No spin. Good line. A ton of jitter and sway. It skipped over the top of the net, barely kissing the tape, and dipped for the court.

His heart clanged against his ribs as one of Seijoh's blockers—Yahaba—dived after it.

He caught it with the edge of his wrist, sent it barreling for Kunimi, and...

Too low.

Kunimi couldn't get to it in time, and it thudded against his shins. Tadashi clenched his fists together, and let go a hissing  _yes_ at the same time as his teammates whooped and hollered.

“Nice, Yamaguchi!” Nishinoya said, scooping up the ball and rolling it to him.

“One more!” Daichi said.

22-16.

Tadashi wondered if the reason he was so calm—so relaxed about his serve, and scoring points—was because they were so far behind. Could it be that he'd already written this set off? Would he be able to serve so freely and willingly if this next serve was for the match?

He closed his eyes, and mumbled to himself as the whistle blew.

“For the match,” he said quietly. “This is for the match.”

He imagined it was 24-23 in their favor. That this was the ball that would knock Oikawa out of the game, and out of high school volleyball forever. Could he do it? Could he—

He tossed the ball.

Jumped. Connected.

It bobbled between two of Seijoh's back line players, landing exactly half way between them. They stared at each other, then watched the ball bounce away to the back wall of the gym.

22-17.

The crowd erupted again. Taiga and the cheer squad had run out of original rhymes, and had reverted back to the general Karasuno chant. Still, above that, Tadashi imagined he could hear Taiga's voice in particular. Shouting his name.

“One more,” he said as Daichi tossed the ball his way.

His make-believe hadn't worked . There was just no way he could pretend they were winning. Not when the scores were so disparate. He trusted in his serve, and he was miles better than he'd been at the beginning of the year—but eight more points was beyond wishful thinking.

He squeezed his eyes tight, and shook his head.

_It isn't up to you_ , he told himself.  _You don't pick the winner._

The whistle blew, and he tossed the ball.

His contact was good, and it sailed over the net. This time, it was headed for Oikawa himself. Tadashi's heart seized up as Oikawa seemed to do nothing for the longest time. He watched...watched... _watched_ ...

Then feather-tapped the ball with his fingertips.

The angle was perfect. Tadashi's serve was halted on the spot, and became a beautifully-set ball. Ripe for the spiking by any one of about four Seijoh players.

“Left!” Daichi yelled.

“Right!” Nishinoya called.

Tadashi didn't know who to listen to.

Kunimi ran for the ball on the left. Kindaichi and Iwaizumi on the right. Tadashi played a numbers game, followed Nishinoya's advice, and shuffled to the right to try and receive from either spiker on that side.

Too late, Tadashi saw it all fall apart.

Yahaba—the team's backup setter—flicked the ball backwards.

Oikawa jumped from a standing start.

Back attack.

His spike crackled through the air—almost as powerful as his serve—and slammed into Kageyama's left shoulder before bouncing into the reserve bench.

Tadashi balled his fists.

This guy. This  _god damn_ guy. The audacity of him, to make Tadashi feel like maybe he should go easy and then unleash an attack like that. Was that his plan all along? Come out in a national magazine, build Tadashi up, make his life better in almost every way, improve the rights of LGBT people all across the country...just to lull Tadashi into a pity spiral during this finals game? 

It was a long shot, but also a super Oikawa-y thing to do.

Tadashi narrowed his eyes.

Maybe he really  _did_ want to beat him.

The score ticked up to 23-17 in Aoba Johsai's favor, and Tadashi did something he'd never done in a competition game before. He moved one position to the left—the middle rear spot on the court—and waited. It felt so weird. Standing there without the ball, not tossing and jumping when the whistle blew. He didn't know what to do with his hands.

Kindaichi served from the other side.

He was decent. He had power and speed. But Nishinoya was on the court, and compared to the serves he'd saved from Oikawa's hands, this was like catching a dandelion in the breeze. He sent the ball up, directly to Kageyama.

And Tadashi forgot he was supposed to be doing something.

_Oh crap! Spiking!_

He'd done it in training before, and knew where to go. He  also knew that, with Asahi and Tanaka and Hinata all on the court, he would  _never_ be the one to receive this toss. But he still ran like it was a certainty. Jumped like it was definitely coming. He leaped through the air, wound up with his right hand...

And hit nothing.

The ball went to Hinata, who slapped it with all his might.

Which, as it turns out, wasn't much might. His tiny shoulders and torso were fantastic for speed but rubbish for brute force, and Yahaba was able to receive the ball easily. It went up, hanging in the air right above Oikawa's head.

Tadashi remembered Coach's words.

_Get as forward as you can as quickly as you can_ .

He sprinted to Asahi's side, ready to go up for the block. He didn't need to worry about position or timing. Asahi would take care of that. All he needed to do was help complete the wall.

Iwaizumi and Kindaichi were both rushing for him.

Tadashi had never seen anything like it. Kindaichi, wild eyed and red-faced, more animal than man. Beside him, Iwaizumi, as laser-focused and calm as a monk, speeding toward the net like a freight train.

Tadashi felt Kageyama bunch in on his left. The three of them—Karasuno's block wall—jumped at the same time.

Oikawa sent the ball to Kunimi on the other side of the court, who nudged the ball past Daichi and Hinata. Almost insultingly slowly, like he'd made no effort at all.

Tadashi's feet hit the ground, and he rushed back to the middle-back position again. Everyone was slapping Hinata on the back, telling him 'don't mind', and Tadashi joined in. Even though he felt like he and Kageyama and Asahi were just as much to blame for what happened.

_Winning isn't up to you_ , his own words came back to him.

And for the first time, he was starting to believe them.

It was 24-17. Barring a miracle, Seijoh were going to take this set. But still, Tadashi's heart was pumping. He felt like he was on fire all over. Adrenaline was thrumming through him so hard, it was all he could do not to jog on the spot to let some of it out. All around him, his teammates looked the same. Tense as coiled metal springs. None of them willing to give up.

The whistle blew, and Kindaichi let rip another serve.

Nishinoya caught it again, and linked with Kageyama.

He sent it to Asahi—when you're in trouble, always toss to the ace—who slammed the ball as hard as he could. But it wasn't enough. It was received, and went up in the air. Much more shallow than last time, though, which meant there was less hang time. Tadashi found himself stranded in the middle of the court, halfway between the baseline and the net, when Oikawa started his toss.

Four spikers were charging for the ball. Kunimi, Kindaichi, Yahaba, Iwaizumi.

But there was no question in Tadashi's mind who was going to take this shot. He could feel it in every bone and muscle and pore and hair in his body. He could see the look on Iwaizumi's face, the way he was concentrating so intently on the net, the ball, the court...

And then, for the briefest second, on Tadashi himself.

Tadashi jerked sideways. He watched Iwaizumi's hand, tried to predict where the ball would land.

And he ran.

As hard as he could, he ran.

Everything was slow-mo as he jumped for the spot. The ball slapped off Iwaizumi's hand, the sound so loud it drowned out the entire stadium's cheers. Tadashi imagined he could hear it whipping through the air on its way down. A meter away. Half a meter. Twenty centimeters...ten...

He threw himself forward, his arms both outstretched, and felt the ball whack against his skin. It stung. Worse than anything he'd ever felt during practice. He felt like he'd been slapped and punched and stabbed all at once.

Then, the paralyzing  _jolt_ as his body hit the ground.

All the wind was knocked out of him, but he kept his head up. He watched the ball as it skewered off his wrist, and skittered through the air toward the net, and slammed into it with a limp  _thwock_ . It fell to the ground, bouncing  like  it wasn't sure which direction to go, and eventually lay still.

Tadashi could hear Seijoh celebrating, and let the pain overwhelm him. He closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back. His chest hurt. His arms hurt. His left hip especially hurt. Breathing hurt. Every single thing about him hurt.

“You okay, Yamaguchi?” Daichi said, somewhere above him. 

Tadashi opened his eyes to his captain, towering with an arm stretched downward. Tadashi forced a couple of breaths down and let Daichi hoist him up.

“Fine,” he said.

“Nice effort,” Daichi said. “I don't think any of us would've gotten that.”

It hurt too much too talk, so Tadashi patted Daichi on the shoulder and pointed to his throat. Daichi snorted, nodding that he understood, and turned to leave the court.

On the other side of the net, Seijoh were ecstatic.

Tadashi watched as Iwaizumi and Oikawa grinned at one another and playfully slapped their teammates. He looked from them to his wrist, which was already showing a big red welt from Iwaizumi's spike.

He didn't have to try so hard just now

He could've let that last ball go and nobody would've blamed him. They were down by seven points, and it was a full-force spike from Seijoh's ace. And yet he'd run after it like his life depended on it. Dived like the court was filled with water, not made of hard, polished wood.

He felt his pulse quicken as he finally figured it out.

People who don't want to win wouldn't throw themselves at a receive like that.

He clenched his fist, and smirked at the laughing, grinning, happy players on the other side of the net.

“Game on, Seijoh,” he said.

And he walked to the bench to join his teammates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, you guys. The delays. I know, I know. The delays :-(
> 
> The short version of the excuse is that I had a very sudden revision due on another writing project and needed it done YESTERDAY, and that took 3 weeks to sort out. Ugh. BUT I got there, and now that means I have nothing on my calendar for like a fortnight. Surely enough time to finish up OUT!
> 
> ALSO this chapter was supposed to cover the whole match but it got way too long, especially considering the next chapter is the big feelings finish, so now it's part one! TUNE IN FOR THE THRILLING CONCLUSION!


	30. Everyone's Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol okay, new plan guys. I thought this would be the 2nd last chapter, but things got toooo long. So here we have chapter 30! More detail at the end.

At first, Tadashi thought the third set was like a wrestling match.

And it was—Nishinoya managed to keep Oikawa's opening serves under control. Kageyama kept everyone coherent and focused. Tanaka saw to it that the energy levels were as high as they could be. And Asahi did his bit to beat on the ball until it coughed up points.

For their part, Seijoh dished out as much as they took. The ball seemed to spend a long time on each side of the net while the teams thought about how to score, where to score,  _who_ should score. And then, whenever the ball finally made it to the other side, someone was waiting. No matter where it went, no matter who spiked...always waiting.

They were at two points apiece, and yet each player on the court had already touched the ball at least three times over. Every precious point had to be wrung out of the play with sheer strength and determination.

A wrestling match.

And as things wore on, the teams tried different things to break the grind. Seijoh found success with Iwaizumi's cross-court spikes, while Kageyama managed to find new depths of power for his serve. The score would slip two points in one direction as someone ramped up their offense...and then two points right back as they were forced on the defensive.

At 8 points all, the lead slipping all over the place, Tadashi was forced to re-evaluate.

This was a like a wrestling match  _on_ an oily floor.

The crowd was a constant wall of sound. Taiga and the Karasuno cheer squad did their best to rev up everyone around them, and the Aoba Johsai's supporters answered the challenge with their own voices. Coach Ukai was screaming at them from the sideline. Suga was, too. Ennoshita. Yachi. Aoba Johsai's coach. Tadashi himself.

Fifteen points all.

Tadashi felt sweat roll off him as the crowd's noise and heat pressed in.

A wrestling match  _on_ an oily floor  _inside_ a ring of fire.

The score tipped In Aoba Johsai's favor. Oikawa scored two service aces in a row. Iwaizumi spiked a hole in the gym floor. Then Daichi stole the ball from Kindaichi, and Karasuno clawed their way back. Two points behind. One. Level again.

One point in front.

_Two_ .

Tadashi's fists clenched up. He could feel it coming.

As Aoba Johsai grabbed hold of Karasuno's collar and stopped them from running away with the score, dragging them backward until they were level again. Tadashi felt the inevitability of it creeping into his gut. It was like destiny. Or worse—one of those universal constants. The tides went in and out, Hinata and Kageyama argued and Aoba Johsai and Karasuno always went to deuce in the third set.

Aoba Johsai pulled in front again.

Karasuno chased them down.

21-21.

A wrestling match  _on_ an oily floor  _inside_ a ring of fire  _on_ a see-saw.

He looked for Tsukki in the rotation. He was up front right now—in the middle position. This was Karasuno's best blocking wall. Their three tallest players at the front, their two best defenders at the back, and a roving Tanaka to do as he pleased. They were optimized for points.

Tadashi shivered as he blew out a breath.

Daichi served, and Aoba Johsai picked it up. Iwaizumi charged for the block wall, let rip, and...

Tsukki and Asahi caught it flat-palmed. The ball bounced off their hands and landed at Iwaizumi's feet.

22-21.

Daichi served again. Aoba Johsai attacked again.

Another block from all three of them stopped Kunimi.

23-21.

“Aghhugghhgg,” Suga said at Tadashi's sigh, and though it was nonsense Tadashi knew exactly what he meant.

Daichi wound up to serve again.

Aoba Johsai attacked again.

They snuck it past the block wall, but couldn't control where. Nishinoya was waiting for it. He sent the ball up, Kageyama used Tanaka from the back, and the ball slammed into Aoba Johsai's side of the court.

24-21.

“Match point!” Suga and Tadashi yelled.

But something was wrong.

Tadashi could feel it. This  _wasn't_ match point. Aoba Johsai and Karasuno always went to deuce in the third set. And worst of all, he could see it written all over Suga's face. He felt it, too.

Maybe  _all_ Karasuno could feel it.

“Daichi, nice serve!” Nishinoya shouted.

And Daichi fired his serve—

...

—directly into the net.

“Ahh!” he said into the shocked silence. “Sorry!”

“Don't mind, Daichi!” Suga called, and Tadashi joined in. “Don't mind!”

But Daichi would definitely mind. There was nothing anyone could say that'd make him not mind.

Because on the other side of the court, strolling to the service line like an actor accepting his Oscar award, was Oikawa. Tadashi could feel his heart pounding all the way down in the soles of his feet.

Oikawa tossed the ball, jumped...

The ball disappeared, just like it had before. Vanished from existence, through some kind of wormhole the Grand King ripped in space itself.

When it re-materialized, it slammed into Tanaka's right foot.

24-23.

Tadashi saw Tanaka's face. He knew what happened next. Daichi could see it, Tsukki could see it, Asahi could see it. Tadashi watched Oikawa reach for the ball, pick it up, and line up for the serve that would bring them to deuce.

He heard Oikawa's voice waft through his thoughts.

_It's just the way the world works, Yama_ .

He fired his serve between Nishinoya and Daichi.

They each went for it, hesitated so not to collide with each other, and let it through.

“Deuce,” Tadashi said.

“It had to happen,” Suga said.

And Tadashi snorted an empty laugh.

So Suga  _was_ thinking it, too.

Oikawa lined up his next serve, tossed it...

And scored again. 24-25.

It was their fourth point in a row, and Tadashi gritted his teeth.

Now this wrestling  _on_ an oily floor  _in_ a ring of fire _on_ a see-saw was  _also_ teetering on the edge of a cliff.

Was this it? Were they about to be knocked out of the tournament?

“Nishinoya, come on...” Tadashi said.

“No,” Suga shook his head, and an evil smile was pulling at his lips. “Not Nishinoya. Not this time.”

“No?” Tadashi said.

And he heard the  _slap_ of the serve, and saw the ball ricochet up in the air. Underneath it, arms level and thighs spread almost into the splits, was Daichi. It wasn't a perfect receive—it went almost high enough to hit the gym roof—but it was more than enough.

“Captain!!” Tadashi yelled.

“Daichi would never let Oikawa win off the back of his mistake,” Suga said, all before the ball fell back to the ground. “It had to be him.”

Tadashi laughed. Laughed like he was being tickled.

“Of course!” he said.

When the ball came back down, Nishinoya paddled it directly to Tanaka. Tanaka wasn't as strong as Asahi, but his blockers weren't as strong as Iwaizumi and Kindaichi, either. He slammed the ball through as hard as he could, adding some cut-spin to it as it went, and found the court on the other side.

25-25.

Tadashi wanted to celebrate—to yell and scream and applaud with the rest of the crowd. But the reality of the game kept him quiet as he watched the rotation move around one, and saw Asahi take up a position to serve.

He looked over at Coach Ukai, who spotted him and gave a short shake of his head.

Tadashi gulped.

“Not me,” he said.

“Ah,” Suga said, watching the exchange between him and their Coach. “Asahi is a strong server, Yamaguchi. Coach might be banking on Aoba Johsai being tired enough to let one through.”

“Yeah,” he said, watching Asahi line up.

A little part of him, way down deep inside, was aching.

He wanted it to be him.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, more firmly.

Now that he'd come to terms with wanting to win, he  _needed_ it to be him.

Asahi tossed, jumped, and served.

The ball reflected off Iwaizumi's shoulder.

25-26.

“Come on, Asahi!” Suga screeched.

He tossed the ball again, jumped...

Yahaba caught it, and sent it to Oikawa.

Nobody came close to stopping Iwaizumi.

26-26.

“Gahhhh,” Tadashi said.

“Mmmemmrrrr,” Suga said.

Their new language got more and more complex with each point. If this kept up much longer, they'd soon have a complete alphabet, phonology and morphology sewn up and sorted. They could call it  _Anxielect._

Kunimi was serving, now.

Not Seijoh's strongest server by a long way, but not their weakest. Not Seijoh's most skilled and powerful player, but no slouch, either. He  _was_ Seijoh's laziest player, though, and that gave him a huge advantage.

He wasn't as exhausted as the rest of his team.

He tossed the ball, locked eyes with Tanaka, and slammed it at him.

Whether Tanaka was caught off-guard by such a direct and quick attack, or whether he was just the player Kunimi picked as the most tired, it worked. Tanaka had to bunch up to try and get his wrists under the ball, and wound up knocking it forward. Too shallow. Too fast.

It slapped limply into the net.

“Kyaaaaa,” Tanaka said— _he can speak Anxielect, too!—_ and he gripped both sides of his head. “I'm sorry!”

“Don't mind!” Daichi said, firm and strong, so loud the back rows of the gym could hear him. “We play the point in front of us!”

“Karasuno!” Tadashi yelled, fists balled and face flushed. “Fight!”

_Just grab this one point_ , he thought.

He looked at the rotation and saw that, if they could just take this  _one point_ , it would be Tsukki's turn to serve. Coach wouldn't hesitate, then. He wouldn't gamble on someone else. He'd substitute Tsukki out before he'd finished walking to the spot, and then...

Then it would be Tadashi's turn.

He could do it. He felt his whole body shake as he repeated it to himself over and over again. He could  _do_ it, if only he got the chance. A tear was squeezing itself out of his left eye.

_Just steal one more point!_

Kunimi was tossing the ball.

As soon as he did, Tadashi's heart soared.

He'd sent it to Tanaka again. For just about any other kind of player, that'd be a good idea. If you've singled them out for being tired, keep pummeling them until they give up. 99.9 percent of the time, it's a sound strategy.

But that would never work on someone as proud and stubborn as Tanaka.

He attacked the ball like it was holding his family hostage. Swooped forward and scooped it up with the crook of both elbows so that it listed gently into the air, floating almost  _painfully_ slowly to the space above Kageyama's head.

“Kageyamaaaaa!” Suga yelled.

And of all people, Kageyama sent the ball to Tsukki.

Tsukki, who was waiting for it.

He bopped the ball gently, poked it over the net like he was coaxing a duckling off a footpath. His height let it bobble over the block wall and trickle to the ground behind them. Seijoh's back three all rushed for it, but collapsed in a pile, too short. The ball bounced, and the whistle blew.

“TSUKKIIIIII!!” Tadashi screeched in a voice three octaves higher than usual.

The crowd was on its feet. It seemed to have doubled in size since the beginning of the third set, and its cascade of sound had weight all of its own. Tadashi's screams were no match for it. Taiga's cheer squad was no match for it.

The whistle was the only thing that managed to cut through the noise.

Tadashi stiffened, and looked over at Coach.

He needn't have bothered. He already knew.

So did Tsukki.

He hadn't bothered walking to the service spot. He was already on his way to the reserve players area, the ball in his hand. Shimizu ran to the edge of the court, two numbers in her hand. One was an 11—Tsukki's number. The other was a 4—Nishinoya's number.

Tsukki off. Nishinoya off.

Hinata on. Yamaguchi on.

This was it. Coach Ukai was abandoning defense.

Kill or be killed.

Tadashi held up Tsukki's number, and the two exchanged the little white paddle. The official nodded to them, granting permission to make the swap, and Tadashi took a step forward.

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukki said, his hand still clamped around the paddle. Tadashi flicked his eyes to Tsukki's. His tired, burning, _hungry_ eyes. “No regrets.”

Tsukki pressed the ball into Tadashi's chest with his free hand.

Tadashi could feel his heart slamming into it.

He didn't need to answer. He nodded once, and gripped the ball with both palms. Tsukki smiled his widest smile—at least three millimeters of lip-curl at each edge of his mouth—and nodded back.

And then Tadashi was on the court.

Awash with sound and lights and the smell of sweat and volleyballs. The crowd was one big blur or shuffling hands and flailing arms. Girl's voices, boy's voices, men's voices, ladies' voices—everyone in the crowd had something to say. He could see copies of Monthy Volleyball in the air. Hundreds upon hundreds of covers with his face on them.

For the first time, Tadashi realized it wasn't just him who knew the story behind this match. Well...not the  _first_ time, maybe. But the first time it truly hit him right in the gut. 

This wasn't just his story any more.

It was Oikawa's, too. It was Iwaizumi's. It was every closeted high school volleyballer in Japan's story. Every closeted high school kid's story, period. Every closeted grown up's story. Everyone who had gay friend's story.

It was  _everyone's_ story, now.

He found the service line, and pressed the ball between his palms. No amount of deep breathing would ever calm him down. But now wasn't the time to be calm, anyway. He needed passion to win this match. He needed drive.

He needed...

“Taiga,” he said, so softly he couldn't hear it.

He turned to the spot where Karasuno's support was sitting. Taiga was on his feet, leaning so far over the rails to shout for him that he could fall off at any second. There was no way they'd hear one another, and so Tadashi did the best he could.

He raised the ball in his hand, outstretched.

Pointed right at Taiga.

Taiga, his cheeks flushed red and a grin spread from one side of his cheeks to the other, raised a fist right back at him. He was horizontal—planked across the guardrail. Kyoshi and Kagame had to grab hold of his shirt to stop him diving to the lower court.

Tadashi couldn't hold back his grin.

And the crowd noise didn't stop. There were rules about this kind of thing, and volleyball crowds were always conscious about following them. But this time, Tadashi had all the control. They would keep going as long as he held this pose. Held this moment with Taiga.

He grinned back at his boyfriend.

_Thank you_ , he mouthed at him.  _For everything_ .

A second longer.

He let the crowd keep it up—reveled in it—for just  _one_ second longer.

Then he dropped his arm, and turned to face his opponent.

Oikawa. Iwaizumi. The rest of Seijoh.

Crouched down and ready for whatever he threw at them.

The crowd noise finally dropped away, and the referee blew the whistle.

Eight seconds.

He had eight seconds before the ball had to be in the air.

He took a deep breath as each one passed.

One.

_For Taiga._

Two.

_For Tsukki._

Three.

_For Karasuno._

Four.

_For Mom and Dad._

Five.

He flicked his eyes to the other side— _For Oikawa, and for Iwaizumi._

Six.

_For Kenma._

Seven.

_For myself_ .

And on eight, he tossed the ball.

He jumped after it, and knew his form was good. The toss let the ball hang  _just_ so, and he was able to strike it with the meatiest part of his palm. The ball thunked off it, and it hovered through the air like it was a slowly-deflating helium balloon.

It passed the net.

It passed over the blockers heads.

It dipped sharply, and curved  _suddenly_ to the left.

Yahaba reached out to save it—so sure he had it covered.

And the ball stopped curving.

It dropped like a stone, almost directly downward, and kissed the court with an insultingly gentle  _smooch_ .

Tadashi seized up.

The only part of him that worked was his throat.

“ALLRIIIIGHHHHTT,” he shouted, drowned out by his teammates and the crowd.

28 points Karasuno, 27 points Aoba Johsai.

“STAY CALM!” Coach Ukai yelled, on his knees, hands grabbing fistfuls of his own hair, sweat running in great rivers from his underarms.

“YAMAGUCHI!” Hinata yelled, tossing him the ball. He was yelling so loud he had to close his eyes. “ONE MORE!”

The cacophony of noise and light and sound assaulted him as he bounced the ball a few times. Match point. He was serving for the  _match_ . To keep them in the running to play at the national tournament.

He was proud of his heart.

It hadn't burst yet.

The referee blew the whistle.

The seconds felt like quarter-seconds.

And he threw the toss on what he suspected would be the most gritty, urgent, painful,  _desperate_ few seconds of his life.

He took a leaf from Kunimi's book, singled out Hanamaki as the most tired-looking of Seijoh's defenders, and sent the ball right for him. The jump floater has a mind of its own, though, and it seemed to want this last point to be a spectacle as much as the crowd did. It juked to the left at the last second...almost  _directly_ onto Hanamaki's outstretched forearm.

An accidental pickup.

Tadashi hissed, and dropped into a ready position.

Here it comes.

_Keep it alive_ , he thought. He  _prayed_ .

Oikawa picked up the ball, his eyes deadly, and sent it to Iwaizumi. Of course he sent it to Iwaizumi. Tadashi rushed forward, but he was too far away to help block so soon after serving. 

No need. Iwaizumi's spike careened into Daichi's arms.

Daichi sent it to Kageyama, who took less than no time to set up a freak quick with Hinata. Not quick enough, though. Watari, their libero, was waiting for it. The ball went up in the air again, and Tadashi switched direction.

He could just about make it to the net this time.

But it wouldn't matter. Oikawa sent the ball to Kunimi, who was charging in from the other sideline. Tadashi went numb as he spiked the ball down, toward Tanaka  _again_ , who was determined not to be fooled. He caught the ball with two closed fists, and sent it back to Kageyama.

Tadashi's shoes squeaked on the court as he changed direction yet again.

No need.

Kageyama sent the ball immediately back to Tanaka, who spiked the ball like there might be candy inside and he wanted it to break open.

Watari again. Diving from out of honest-to-god nowhere.

The ball found its way back to Oikawa, who sent it to Kindaichi.

Kindaichi spiked it.  _So_ fast. Tadashi didn't have anywhere near enough time to form an effective block wall. He jumped near Asahi, but the gap between them was big enough to drive the Karasuno team bus through.

The ball snuck by, and Tadashi watched it hopelessly—

Get picked up by a diving Daichi.

His soles squeaked again as he changed direction—this time heading further out to the side. If Kageyama did decide to take a chance on sending a spike his way, he wanted to be ready.

He leapt up, but the ball went to Asahi.

Who slammed it.

Slammed it straight at Kunimi, who wasn't fast enough to get hold of it properly. It glanced his forearm, but skewed off to the side. Headed away from the court. Headed all the way off to the sideline.

Tadashi was still in the air as he saw it all unfold.

_Hit the ground!_

And then, from out of thin air, Oikawa was behind it.

Twisting through the air.

Contorting his entire body to focus all his energy and concentration through his fingertips.

He tossed it. The longest, straightest, fastest ball toss Tadashi had ever seen. Not even Kageyama had ever tried something like it. It sailed from one side of the court, over the heads of one, two,  _three_ Seijoh players. Right to Iwaizumi's hand.

Iwaizumi, who was  _right the hell in front_ of Tadashi.

Tadashi caught his eye for the splittest of split seconds. Saw where the ball was headed. Saw that he wouldn't make the block in time. Saw that he only had one choice.

He fell backward. He watched Iwaizumi's hand, and fell to his knees right in front of the ball. He must have looked like he was playing a game of limbo, except the version of limbo where people hurl balls at you at a thousand miles an hour.

Tadashi leaned backward.

He couldn't see the ball.

But holy  _shit_ , he felt it.

Like he'd been hit in the chest by a freight train. A freight train that had machine guns on the front to soften up its target. Bullets that were laced with acid that burned and burned and  _burned_ until it felt like his entire upper body was on fire. A freight train carrying a cargo of fire ants that were now running amok across his skin, pin-pricking him all over.

He was paralyzed by it. Dazed.

But the ball went up.

It went straight up in the air, and all Tadashi could do was fall.

The ball got smaller and smaller as it went higher. He couldn't touch it again. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. All the sound of the gymnasium seemed to be fading away as he toppled closer and closer to the ground. Slow-motion.  _Agonizingly_ slow.

And then, from out of nowhere, he saw a pair of arms leaping for it. Outstretched, straining, and yet so controlled. Skillful fingers on the tips of powerful, steady hands. Long arms. A black jersey. A thick pile of dark hair. A blindingly white number '9'.

_Kageyama_ .

He flicked the ball backwards, over his head.

Barely a touch, just enough to change its direction and make it past the bulk of his body.

Tadashi was still falling when he saw the other black jersey close in on on it. Like a blur, even in the stop-frame slow-mo that the world was moving in. A black and orange blur, with bright hair to match the team stripe.

_Hinata._

Jumping to receive Kageyama's tiny, practically imperceptible toss.

Almost exactly in the spot where Tadashi had saved the ball.

The spot where Iwaizumi was still off-balance from his spike.

The spot where there were no other blockers.

The spot where he shot the ball past Iwaizumi's shoulder. Past Watari's outstretched hands. Past Oikawa's grasping fingers.

Into the court, and then the back wall of the gym.

The whistle blew.

29-27.

Tadashi sank the rest of the way to the ground.

Exhausted.

Burning.

Hurting.

But laughing.

As noise engulfed him again, and he felt hands all over him, and the weight of bodies piling on top of that, and he smelled the breath and sweat of the entire team surround him, he just kept laughing. He could only hear white noise. Only see flashes of light interrupted by patches of black and orange.

And in amongst all the buzzing words and gushing feelings that were turning his brain into a disorganized soup, only one solid memory managed to take hold. Words.  _Taiga_ 's words.

_Don't forget to feel happy when you win_ .

Tadashi hugged someone.

He didn't know who it was. One of his teammates.

He hugged them and he didn't let go. Didn't stop laughing.

29-27.

They did it.

They won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See where this ends? This is a good spot to end it. You know where wouldn't have been? Anywhere in the next 3000 words or so, lol, so they earned themselves their own chapter. To make up for this seeming onslaught of 'more chapters than I said there'd be', hopefully the next one will be up really quickly, too! 
> 
> ANYWAY enough of that! We are through the final volleyball match of the story! Can you believe it??


	31. Permission

When Karasuno eventually unpicked themselves from the sweaty pile of limbs and jerseys and hair they'd made on the court, they set about being  _winners_ .

It was exactly like Tadashi imagined. Smiles and grins and laughter. Waves and thankyous and well-deserved drinks. Words of bewilderment and congratulations from Coach and Mr Takeda. A blown kiss from Taiga.

He'd never been drunk or high before, but there was no way it could be much different from this. A slideshow of blurry, heartwarming images and sounds that didn't quite sink in all the way. One single thought buzzing round and round in his head, insistent and loud:  _We won we won we won we won we won._ He was kind of dizzy. Kind of deaf. He could already feel this memory solidifying, denser than diamond. Writing itself in his memory with permanent marker so he'd never, ever forget it.

Perfect in every way except for one.

“Line up!” Daichi ordered.

One single, heartbreaking thing.

It was the numbers that did it. A coincidence of volleyball culture and the random number he'd been assigned when he joined the volleyball club all those months ago. Those two things—decided so long ago—collided now to shatter Tadashi's mood.

He stepped up to the baseline of the court, just like he always did when it was time to thank the opposing team. And Karasuno lined up beside him in number order. Lowest number on the far right, ascending to highest number on the far left. Daichi, number one, all the way to Yamaguchi, number twelve.

Seijoh did the same.

Their lowest number, face to face with Karasuno's highest.

Number one to number twelve.

Oikawa to Tadashi.

It was a moment that felt like it  _wanted_ to linger, but wasn't allowed to. For the briefest second they locked eyes. Tadashi could feel electricity rushing through his body, down the sideline, into Oikawa and back again. A circuit connecting them, letting them think and feel the same thing at the same time.

_I wish it didn't have to be this way_ .

“Thank you for the game!” Daichi called out.

Tadashi bowed deep and low, poured every ounce of respect and gratitude he had in to it, and stood up.

But Oikawa was gone.

Halfway across the gym already, slapping Iwaizumi on the back, settling his upset teammates. Tadashi's feet wouldn't move as he watched him go. Gathering his things, shaking his coach's hand, helping pile empty water bottles into a cart.

He kept taking shallow little breaths, like he wanted to call out.

Yell  _Hey!_ Tell him this can't be it. They can't just part ways like this. Not after everything.

But the words never made it out of his mouth.

“Hey,” Tsukki said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Come on. Girl's final starts in a minute, we've gotta get off the court.”

Tadashi's feet still wouldn't move.

Across the gym, Oikawa stopped, too.

_Just turn around once_ , Tadashi thought at Oikawa's back.  _Just one look back and I'll go_ .

“Hey, Tadashi,” Tsukki said. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah, I just...” he trailed off.

Oikawa's left shoulder was bobbling on the spot, but he wasn't moving. Even as the rest of his teammates filtered by him, patting him on the back, headed for the change rooms.

_Just once_ .

“You just?” Tsukki said.

Tadashi's lungs burned with a held breath.

_COME ON_ .

One foot, a half-step sideways. Then the other. A twist at the waist.

And Tadashi almost collapsed as he let the air rush out of him. Oikawa finally turned around, a forced smile on his face, and found Tadashi's eyes. Tadashi felt cold relief surge through him, and tried not to let the stinging corners of his eyes let go any of the tears they were holding back.

Oikawa's smile twitched just a  _tiny_ bit wider, and he held up his left hand.

His phone was glowing—fresh from a recently sent message.

Tadashi's heart skipped, and he nodded.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he said as Oikawa finally left the court. “Let's go.”

He rushed to his gym bag—Ennoshita was already carrying it for him—and rifled through it. His own phone was flashing. A dozen or more messages from Taiga, a couple from his mother and father, and most recently...

Oikawa.

 

_Same place as before. Soon as you can. I'll be waiting._

 

_***_

 

Oikawa was standing, Iwaizumi was sitting, and Tadashi turned his back on both of them as he closed the door to change room seven.

They weren't crying. And as long as they didn't, Tadashi promised himself he wouldn't, either. He pushed the door until it bumped against the latch and blinked away the cloudy, stinging feeling in his eyes. The door clicked closed. He waited just a second longer.

Time enough for one deep breath before he turned around.

It was impossible to tell how they were feeling. Iwaizumi's face was flushed red, but that could've been from the match. Oikawa was wearing a vacant sort of smile, but he always did that.

“You were fast,” Oikawa said.

Tadashi tried to smile back at him.

“My, ah...team mates think I'm in the bathroom.”

Oikawa snorted, almost soundless.

“Classic.”

Iwaizumi pointed a finger at his own heart.

“How's your chest?” he said, and he tapped his right pec.

Tadashi let reflex bring his hand to the spot, and felt the way it stung under his hand. He hadn't had a chance to look at it yet, but from the way it sent needles of pain shooting through his entire body it must've been an impressive mark.

“I think it's bruised,” he said.

Iwaizumi laughed.

“Oh, it's definitely bruised,” he said. “That was one of my best.”

“Thanks for the battle scar,” Tadashi said.

And then he stood there. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. It was just breathing in the quiet, his hands gripping the hem of his Karasuno jersey while he thought furiously for something to say. Or rather, fought for the courage to say the only thing he  _could_ say without it spilling out of him in a blubbering gush.

He felt like he weighed half his usual weight when he finally spoke.

“I'm so sor—” 

“Yama,” Oikawa said, shaking his head.

“Don't apologize,” Iwaizumi said with a scratchy throat. “You won. We didn't drag you up here to say sorry for that.”

Tadashi choked down the rest of his apology.

He knew that. Of  _course_ he knew that already. But that didn't mean he couldn't apologize anyway. Not 'sorry for beating you', but sorry for your loss. Sorry for all the things you've been denied that you so  _SO_ clearly deserved. What was wrong with—

“We brought you up here to thank you,” Oikawa said.

Tadashi flinched away from the words.

“No,” he said. “Come on. Not apologizing is one thing, but I won't let you thank me. Not when...”

Oikawa's face was flat. Neutral.

“Not when what?”

_I will not cry_ , Tadashi lectured himself.

“Not when it should have been you.”

Iwaizumi's eyebrow curled up.

“How do you figure?” he said, arms folded across his chest. He looked like he was protecting himself. “I couldn't break through. Even when I made it through the wall, someone was there to receive it. You defused Oikawa's serve. You pulled together and refused to let go of the match. _You_ did—you and the other first years. The last three points? Number eleven. Number twelve. Number ten. All through the hands of Kageyama.

“It _should_ have been you,” Iwaizumi said. “And it was.”

Tadashi felt his fists tightening with every word.

Oikawa saw it, and a tiny laugh spilled out of him.

“You disagree,” he said.

“No, I...” he said, and stopped.

_Deep breaths_ , he told himself.  _I will not cry_ .

“I mean...look,” he said, and he surprised himself by sounding angry. “Okay, sure. Maybe I can deal with the idea that the strongest volleyball team won. Maybe, if we're going to go into all that. We scored the most points, we go on to the final round. That's all _fine_ , but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about _this_.”

He waved a hand between all three of them—a big, sweeping, circular motion.

“This team here. The reason it's just the three of us in here _right now_ , you know? Team Gay Japan right here. Maybe, just for today, Karasuno's the strongest volleyball team. But the strongest one of _us_ should have won, and you didn't.”

Tadashi was looking straight at Oikawa, and he could feel the edges of his eyes getting wet. It wasn't crying, though—it didn't count as crying until hot water was dripping on to his cheeks.

Oikawa looked stunned, and Tadashi put his hands on his hips.

“What am I compared to you?” he said, his voice back to its usual volume. “What can I do that you can't do better? Why am I the one going on when it was you who did all the work? And _don't_ say 'it's just the way the world works', okay, because thanks to you I know that's bullshit. Thanks to _you_.”

Tadashi blew out a long, slow sigh as he replayed the last six months in his head. He remembered how it all started that day. He could still feel the concrete wall against his back. He could see the angry red warning light on his phone telling him he had exactly five percent battery left. He remembered the way his innards froze over when he saw Oikawa's face on the screen.

_MEET OIKAWA TOORU – JAPAN'S FIRST OUT ATHLETE!_

Taiga, Sendai, Monthly Volleyball, coming out...

“All of this is thanks to you,” he said.

At some point during his speech he'd started staring at his shoes. Now that he looked up, he saw Oikawa had his eyes closed. Tight.

Iwaizumi had a hand on his arm.

Tadashi was sure his own eyes must be red as an anime villain. But his cheeks were dry, and that meant he technically wasn't crying. He hadn't broken his promise.

Five full seconds later, Oikawa's eyes snapped open.

Also red, but dry.

“Yama, look,” he said. “I can't pretend I'm happy about it. I'm not. Do I _want_ to physically strangle Kageyama with his own practice bib? Sure. Would I mind if a bout of horrible, _horrible_ dysentery swept through the Karasuno team bus on the way home today? Absolutely not. I'm upset I didn't win. Very, very upset. Volleyball is everything to me—”

He broke off with a  _gwah_ as Iwaizumi stamped on his foot.

“Almost everything to me,” Oikawa corrected. “But Karasuno beat us, and that's the way _volleyball_ works. It's best of twenty-five by two, first to two sets wins. There's no wiggle room with that, no matter how you feel about it personally. It doesn't even matter if the 'best' team won. The team that _won_ won, and that's...that.”

His voice was shaking.

Barely noticeable, but definitely shaking.

It brought a lump to Tadashi's throat, and he swallowed it back down hard.

_I will not cry_ .

He wondered if Oikawa and Iwaizumi were thinking the same thing. A three-way pact. 'I won't cry unless he does', and so they all held on to their tears until someone broke ranks. Signalled the rest that it was okay to give in.

Oikawa sniffed.

“This isn't a gay role model tournament. It's a volleyball tournament. Team Gay Japan—” he broke off a second to chuckle at the term “—wasn't playing. Karasuno was playing. Seijoh was playing. Team Gay Japan—” another chuckle “—is playing a longer game. A very different game.”

He held up his right wrist.

Wrapped in a Midadas sweat band.

“And I already won,” Oikawa said. “This was my victory, Yama. Midadas and Monthly Volleyball and, ahhh, oh yeah: eighty-five million yen _._ And it wasn't just me who won it, but Iwa, and you and Taiga, too. It's a prize much more valuable than a High School Nationals title.”

Oikawa lowered his hand to Iwaizumi's shoulder and squeezed.

They made a good show of looking like they believed it.

“And besides,” Iwaizumi said. “Because of you, there was no way Team, er... _Gay Japan_...could lose. It's your face on the cover of the magazine, not just Tooru's.”

And he pulled a copy of Monthly Volleyball from his gym bag. Held it up, as though Tadashi had to see it with his own eyes to believe it.

The corners of Iwaizumi's copy were flaked from being turned.

“He's right, Yama,” Oikawa said. “As an angry and very brave guy once told me in Sendai: this story doesn't belong to me. It belongs to you, too. I go forward, you go forward—it doesn't matter. _One_ of us keeps the story alive.

“Just so happens it's you.”

Tadashi couldn't speak. One syllable would set him off bawling.

God damn Oikawa, how could he  _speak_ when he must be feeling the same way? Or worse? How could he squeeze words out of a throat this tight and hot? How could he say 's's with a nose full of runny gunk? How could he pluck sentences out of a brain so cloudy and chaotic?

“Which is why we brought you up here,” Iwaizumi said, and he surprised Tadashi by standing up. He strode forward, eyes locked on Tadashi's, and put a hand on his shoulder. “To say thank you. And to tell you to take this as _far_ as you can.”

Oikawa walked closer, too.

“You asked what you can do that I can't?” Oikawa said. “Right now, the answer is _keep playing_. Do your best. Do better than you ever thought possible. This next part is yours, now. I'm trusting you with it.”

Oikawa grasped Tadashi's other shoulder in his big, meaty hand. Warmth seeped through him from their touch, spreading through his neck and chest and back and up through his face. When it reached his lips, he felt them tremble. When it reached his cheeks, he felt the underside of his eyes sting.

When he saw Iwaizumi's eyes tighten, his did the same.

When he saw Oikawa swallow a lump in his throat, he was a goner.

He didn't think twice about it. He felt the tears leak out and fall on to his cheeks, and he slumped forward with all his weight against Oikawa and Iwaizumi. They caught him with one arm each, and he wrapped them both up as he let everything go. Propped against Oikawa's left shoulder and nestled into the right side of Iwaizumi's torso, his whole body shook as jagged breaths broke loose. The bruise on his chest stung and ached at the same time, worse with each twitch of his lungs.

Why had he bothered trying to hold it back in the first place?

How  _else_ could this have possibly ended?

“I'll do it,” he said, the words muffled by a Seijoh jersey. “I will.”

He felt Oikawa's hand pat the back of his head.

“I know.”

The words vibrated from Oikawa's chest and into Tadashi's skin. They soaked inside, spreading from one end of him to the other, and he stopped shaking. His breathing slowed. His eyes loosened up.

_Count it out_ , he told himself.  _Eight seconds_ .

_Seven, six_ – a deep breath.

_Five, four, three_ – he blinked out the tears.

_Two, one._

He pushed himself upright.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi were breaking away from their own hug—one happening around Tadashi—and they slapped him on both shoulders. When his eyesight unblurred, he spotted the wet mark he'd left on Oikawa's jersey.

“Oh,” he said, brushing at it. “I'm sorry.”

Oikawa snorted.

“It's nothing,” he said. “I'm used to people sobbing at the sight of me.”

Iwaizumi slapped him on the side of the head.

“Weeping for their sanity,” he said.

“That's right,” Oikawa said. “Because of my _insane_ good looks.”

As they squabbled, Tadashi felt the heat leaving him, and finally understood why he'd come here. It wasn't to apologize, or to talk about who should or shouldn't have won. It wasn't to spill his guts and get wrapped up in a three-way hug while he  _literally_ cried on Oikawa's shoulder.

The words that had finally managed to soothe him were nothing to do with that. Two simple little words that made all the difference. All this time, he'd seen Oikawa as his mentor. Or leader. Or teacher. Every positive step he'd made, he felt like he was following in Oikawa's footsteps in some way or another. Now, though...

Now, he was on his own.

He was about to take the lead for the first time.

He'd come here to show Oikawa he knew that.

And after all the words and speeches they'd swapped, it turned out to be two tiny, little, inconsequential words that finally put him at ease.

_I know_ .

He'd come here for permission to go on alone.

And now he had it.

“You have to teach me how to do that,” he said.

“Do what?” Oikawa said.

“Make speeches and all that,” Tadashi said, wiping a big wet streak of fluid from the end of his nose and brushing it on his shorts. “Taiga's good at it, too. All I ever do is get flustered and trip on my words. You guys are all like ' _this prize is a prize more valuable than any high school nationals title_ ' and stuff. It's awesome.”

Oikawa shrugged.

“Spokesman,” he said, and he pointed to his Midadas sweat band again. As though that was the entire explanation. As though passion and smarts and wit had nothing to do with it.

“You'll be a great spokesman,” Tadashi said.

Oikawa smiled at him.

Right then, Tadashi's phone chirped. He had it tucked into the waistband of his Karasuno shorts, and he felt the vibration surge through his hip bone. He yanked it out and checked it. One message from Tsukki.

 

_More than one person wondering where you are. Am stalling. Is not going well._

 

Tadashi snorted, and Oikawa's eyebrow lifted.

“Your team?”

Tadashi nodded.

“I better get back,” he said. 

“Us, too,” Iwaizumi said, returning to collect his bag. 

“Yama, do me a favor?” Oikawa said. 

Tadashi stashed his phone back in his waistband.

“Anything,” he said.

Oikawa leaned forward, his face only inches from Tadashi's, and stared into his eyes. Tadashi could see the reddened veins pinching at his irises. When he spoke, his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“When you go back to your team, they'll be celebrating. Deservedly. There'll be happy people everywhere. Surrounding you. One of them will be Kageyama. When you see him, I want you to tell my Kouhai this:”

And he pulled his lower eyelid down with one finger, and stuck out his tongue.

“Blehhhh! Blerrrghhhhhh!”

Tadashi lurched backward, his heart racing from the outburst.

Oikawa stood back up, hands on his hips, and nodded.

“He'll know what it means.”

Tadashi laughed, and the way his chest shook made his bruise sting. He clutched at it, which only made it hurt  _more_ , and forced himself to stop moving.

“I'll see what I can do,” he said.

Oikawa winked, and turned to join Iwaizumi at the edge of the room.

Tadashi turned, still so close to the door.

He supposed that was it. A quick sorry, a quick thankyou, a bit of snot on Oikawa's jersey...done. Walking out of change room seven seemed so final. Like it was some kind of ending to a story he wasn't sure was finished. Like he was saying goodbye to someone halfway through a conversation.

And so, with his hand on the door handle, he stopped.

“Hey,” he said, turning.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi watched him.

“Don't disappear, okay?” Tadashi said. “I...I _might_ be strong enough to do this on my own. Maybe. But that doesn't mean I'd prefer to do it that way. I owe you so much. _Both_ of you.”

They were kind enough to let the words hang in the air a moment—strong and satisfying. Then Oikawa smiled, and slung his hands to his hips.

“You didn't think this was _goodbye_ , did you?”

Iwaizumi pointed to Oikawa.

“This is the clingiest guy I've ever met,” he said. “Yamaguchi, you'll be lucky to get a day's break from him.”

Tadashi smiled. Just a tickle at the corners of his mouth at first, then stretching out bit by bit. He snorted a laugh, and the smile turned into a grin. Then a big grin. Then, finally, a full-blown Yamaguchi Grin.

“Thank you,” he said, one last time. 

“For everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooops, a bit later than I wanted to get this one up! It turned out to be a lot more difficult to write than I thought it would be. Trying to find a balance between serious feelings and keeping it light/real is super hard, haha. But there we have it!
> 
> This means we are literally ONE chapter away from being finished, guys! It will be up shortly, along with an announcement for a spiritual sequel to this story which I won't say too much about until I've figured it out, lol. It won't carry on directly, but there's a very very good chance this isn't the last you'll see of Tadashi and Taiga.
> 
> Until next week! THANK YOU ALL again for reading. Everyone who's ever read a single word of this story is my favorite person in the world.


	32. Tomorrow

The sun was setting on Karasuno High School as they finished unloading the bus, and it bathed the parking lot in the team colors. Long, black shadows cast by glowing orange light. Tadashi watched his team mates array themselves in front of Coach Ukai, everyone outlined with a bright halo.

“All right,” Coach said. “I've been thinking about what I should say to you all when we got back here. The whole bus trip I was trying to come up with something inspirational and cool, but I think we all know big speeches are more Mr Takeda's strong suit.”

Mr Takeda tried to hide his blush with a short bow. Tadashi snorted as a murmur of laughter went around the group, and Coach carried on.

“So all I've got is this:

“You deserved to win today, and you should be proud of yourselves. Every one of you can go home tonight feeling like a winner. So no speeches. No advice. Just relax, and worry about tomorrow when it gets here.”

Mr Takeda straightened up.

“And I'm sorry to say I've got nothing inspirational and cool for you, either,” he said, the corner of his mouth curled into a tiny smirk. It was an unusual expression for him. Almost cheeky. “The trip from Sendai to Torono isn't long enough for that. So if you want to hear my best work, you're going to have to give me more time. This time tomorrow should be plenty. 

“Which means you'll just have to win. Take us to Nationals. _Then_ I'll hit you with the good stuff.”

Another ripple of laughter, and Tadashi grinned at their supervisor. Mr Takeda always reminded him of his mother. Just a little bit. It was in the way he was never quite sure if he was saying the right thing, and how he always looked like he was one bit of criticism away from full-tears.

“Captain,” Mr Takeda said, nodding to Daichi. “Dismiss your team.”

“Yes,” Daichi said, stepping to the front of the fanned-out crowd. The corners of his eyes were drooping low and his hair was matted down with dried sweat. The skin on his cheeks was _still_ flushed pink hours after the match was done. His steps were clunky—feet slapping the concrete, legs jarring as they took his weight.

But his  _smile_ .

“I'm very tired,” he said, and they all laughed. “We're all very tired—except maybe Hinata. So I'm grateful to our Coach and supervisor for being so unprepared. It means we can go home and rest.

“We defeated Aoba Johsai today. Plenty of people said we never could, and we proved them wrong. I am _so_ proud of each and every one of you. Tomorrow, we're up against our biggest challenge yet. But that's tomorrow. For now, home. Get a good night's sleep, and let today's victory sink in to your blood. Then wake up ready to fight like you've never fought before.”

Tadashi folded his arms.

_Damn_ it, it wasn't just Oikawa and Iwaizumi and Taiga who could make great speeches without warning. Daichi could do it, too. Where did they  _keep_ this endless supply of perfectly-spun words?  Did they read  _Great Speeches of the 20_ _th_ _Century_ instead of the newspaper? Did they sleep on mattresses stuffed with pages from the dictionary and eat... _alphabet soup_ ? 

Or something?

“Also,” Suga said, leaning forward. “If we win tomorrow Daichi will buy us all ramen.”

Daichi went pale-white.

“So generous,” Asahi said, grinning.

“All right!” Nishinoya said. “Free ramen and a speech from Mr Takeda. How can we lose?”

“I can feel it,” Tanaka said. “Another great victory for Team Sleeveless. It's inevitable!”

Mr Takeda stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Have you ever met a more confident bunch?” he asked into the air, to nobody in particular.

“With this much energy for bragging?” Coach added, arms folded. “You're exhausting me just listening to this. Hurry and get out of here, already!”

The dispersal began, and Tadashi made his way around the group, thanking each of them individually. He knew most of them would blow it off—they did—but he had to say it, anyway. They probably thought it was for how they played today. That was fine. They didn't need to know why Tadashi was feeling grateful. The explanation would be too long and confusing.

It was enough for them to know he was thankful to have come so far.

Thankful for the chance to go further.

One by one he said thanks, and one by one he said goodbye.

Eventually, it was just the four first years left. 

“Kageyama and I are going to the gym for some practice,” Hinata said, flicking a volleyball between his palms. “Wanna come along, Yamaguchi?” And then, in a softer, darker voice. “Tsukishima?”

Tsukki looked at Hinata like he'd just offered him a glass of fish guts.

“I'll pass,” he said, voice _superb_ with disdain.

“Thanks, Hinata,” Tadashi said, checking his phone. Half past five. “But I'm having Taiga over for dinner tonight with my parents. We're going to celebrate the win today.”

“Ahhh, nice,” Hinata said. “You know, they should re-print Monthly Volleyball, now. Except with just you on the cover this time since you beat the Grand King.”

Tadashi laughed.

“I'm happy to wait for next month,” he said. “They can print the entire team's photo on it when we win Nationals.”

Hinata clasped his fist.

“Exactly!”

Tadashi heard a soft buzzing, and reached immediately for his phone. It wasn't vibrating, though, and it took him a second to realize the noise was coming from Hinata's pocket. 

Hinata pulled the yellow flip-phone out and stared at it, eyes wide like he'd just bumped into someone he hadn't seen for a long time.

“It's...it's Kenma,” he said, flicking his eyes to Tadashi.

Tadashi couldn't stop himself taking a short, sharp breath.

To Tsukki and Kageyama, it must have looked so stupid. Hinata, who spoke to Kenma  _all the time_ , spooked by the phone call. Tadashi, who had no apparent connection to Kenma whatsoever, gasping at the sound of his name.

Tadashi nodded to Hinata, and Hinata hit the green button.

“Kenma?” he said, and walked away to find privacy.

“Oi,” Kageyama called after him. “I thought we were practicing?”

“I think they've got some stuff to talk about,” Tadashi said, smiling at Kageyama. “They're good friends, you know. Probably debriefing about the match today.”

Kageyama's mouth twisted into a frown.

“He can do that with _me_ ,” he said, and he stalked off toward the gym. “While I'm tossing to him. I can tell him exactly where he went wrong. What he needs to improve if he's going to beat Shiratorizawa. I was _there_. I...”

Murmuring all the while until he was out of earshot.

Tadashi and Tsukki stared after him.

“Setter envy?” Tsukki said.

Tadashi laughed, and brought his gaze back to Hinata. Talking in a quiet voice, his spare hand over his mouth, ducking his head. He looked like he was on the phone at the back of a movie theater, not in a wide-open parking lot.

“Must be,” Tadashi said.

Hinata caught him looking and blushed.

All Tadashi could do was send him one psychic message.

_ Just be you, Hinata. _

He turned away, and left it in Hinata's hands.

“Just the two of us left,” Tsukki said, gazing around the empty lot. “We walking together?”

“About that,” Tadashi said, and he rounded on his best friend. He scratched the back of his head with his left hand, trying his best to look easy. Like he hadn't been looking for a way to casually ask since they got on the bus. “I said I was having Taiga over for dinner tonight, right?”

“You told Karasuno's littlest exhibitionist that, yes.”

“Right,” Tadashi said. “But what I _should_ have mentioned is that you're more than welcome to come along. I mean, I've got to wait here for Taiga so we can all walk together, but mom and dad have more than enough for the five of us. If you feel like it!”

Tsukki snorted and held up his right hand.

It was mostly white tape and bandage.

“Tadashi,” he said. “My hand hurts. My legs hurt. My everything hurts. I think I'd like to go home and collapse in to bed.”

Tadashi gritted his teeth.

“Please,” he said. “It's...to say thank you. For, you know. Everything that's happened lately. And before lately, too. Just for everything that's ever happened.”

Tsukki let his arm flop to his side.

“You don't need to thank me.”

“Yes,” Tadashi said, fists clenching. “Yes, I do.”

“For what? Being your friend?”

“Sure. And for making everything... _happen_ , you know? For being so cool about the crush thing. And getting me Taiga's number, and for helping me out when I needed cover. Chrissakes, Tsukki, you went to stay with your brother for a weekend because I needed an excuse to—”

“Favors,” Tsukki said, waving a hand. “I don't need thanks for those. You'll return them for me one day. No big deal.”

“No, Tsukki, listen,” Tadashi said, palm-out like he was waiting to answer a question. “None of this happens without you, okay? No Taiga. No coming out story. No brand new, happy life. I kind of need to—”

“Thank me, yes,” Tsukki said. “You said already.”

“Right. So come to dinner.”

“No.”

“GAH!” Tadashi raised himself on his _tip-toes_ to force the word out of his mouth. He stared at Tsukki—infuriating, cool, frustrating, awesome Tsukki—and shook his head. “Why?”

Tsukki did two things he didn't often do.

First, he laughed. Just one proper, from-the-gut bark of laughter. 

Then, he reached out and clamped his unbandaged hand on Tadashi's shoulder.

“Tadashi,” he said. “You're my best friend. I've done you a ton of favors, sure. But all those things you said just now aren't my achievements. You did all of that, and I refuse to let you give me credit.”

“But—”

“Ah ah,” Tsukki said, cutting him off. “All _I_ want is for you to be happy. So, how about it? Taiga's coming to dinner with your parents tonight. Does that make you happy?”

Tadashi couldn't douse his smile.

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course it does.”

“And we're playing Shiratorizawa tomorrow for a shot at Nationals. Does that make you happy?”

Tadashi closed his eyes and nodded.

“Yes.”

“And Oikawa Tooru is now some kind of sports model slash gay rights activist slash celebrity. How about that. Happy?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Tsukki said, dropping his hand from Tadashi's shoulder. “Good. You're happy. So you know what would make _me_ happy?”

“What?”

And Tsukki used his full height to look down at Tadashi with droopy, heavy, leaden eyes.

“If I could go home,” he said. “And go to sleep.”

Tadashi wanted to keep arguing, but he knew this face. Tsukki wouldn't be swayed. As much as it killed Tadashi to give in—to let Tsukki divest himself of any responsibility for Tadashi's happiness—he knew Tsukki's mind was made up.

He dropped his shoulders, and nodded.

“We'll have dinner another time,” Tsukki said. “When it isn't a thank you. When it's just 'because'.”

“Okay,” Tadashi said. “It's a promise.”

Tsukki nodded, and turned to walk away.

“See you tomorrow, Tsukki.”

Tsukki held his bandaged hand up. 

“Yup,” he called back. “Tomorrow.”

Tadashi let him get a few seconds' distance away. Watched him lope along like a great big blond ostrich with a backpack on his shoulder. Then, when he was  _just_ still in earshot, Tadashi cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Hey, Tsukki!”

Tsukki turned around, one quizzical eyebrow up.

Tadashi grinned at him.

“Thank you.”

 

 

***

 

 

Tadashi barely had to say a word to his parents to bring them up to speed on Karasuno's win. Instead, he let Taiga recount the match with the starry-eyed wonder of a kid who just got back from Disneyland.

“So then _everyone_ 's losing it,” Taiga was saying while Tadashi blushed in his seat. “And Iwaizumi just _smashes_ this thing, like, so hard you can feel the shock wave up in the stands, you know? And then Tadashi's like _nooooo—_ ”

He spread his arms out and leaned backward, miming like he was jumping in front of the spike. Then, with his left hand, he made a fist and brought it slowly to his chest.

“CRACK!” he said. “It doesn't even sound real. It sounds like a car crash. Just the _noise_ hurts my ears. But the ball's up in the air, and the crowd is continuing to lose it, and then somehow Kageyama is just there? He catches the ball _on its way up_ , and gives it a little boop—”

He patted an invisible volleyball backwards over his head.

“To Hinata. Who is also somehow just _there_. And he slaps it like he knew this would happen right from the very beginning of the game, and Iwaizumi's like _whaaaaaat_. Four Seijoh players run for it but they're way too slow, and the ball bounces away to _no-one_. Just when I'm thinking the crowd can't possibly lose it any more than they have been, they somehow _do_ , and then _everyone_ 's on a pile in the middle of the court. Game over. Karasuno wins. Tadashi wins. Seijoh loses for all time.”

And Taiga slumped back in to his chair, chin up in the air, grin on his face a mile wide. Tadashi watched as his parents were torn between applause and laughter, and ultimately went with a mixture of both. His mother clapped quietly, smiling with wet eyes. His father laughed his most hearty laugh—which was basically a gentle, deep chuckle.

Tadashi snorted, and put his fork down on his empty plate.

“Don't you feel like you were there?” he said.

“Play by play,” his father said. 

“I really wish I could've seen it in person,” his mother said, fanning herself. Though Tadashi wasn't so sure. If Taiga's re-telling was enough to get her this flustered, being there might have sent her in to cardiac arrest.

“The crowd really is something,” Taiga said. “And the game is really fast, too. And loud. How many games have you seen?”

Tadashi's mother folded her arms and stared at Tadashi with mock-anger.

“None,” she said. “Tadashi is too embarrassed to let us watch.”

Tadashi jolted in his seat.

“It isn't that!” he said. “It's just, well...I don't _play_ all that much. Or I didn't before lately. There wouldn't have been much to see.”

“Except my handsome boy in his uniform,” she said.

Taiga nudged him under the table.

“Handsome boy,” he said.

“But that's not a problem any more, right?” his father said.

“Nope!” Taiga said. “They can't get by without their pinch server, now.”

“Well, then,” his father said. “We'll finally get to see what a pinch server can do. Tomorrow. When Karasuno wins against...Shi...Sherry...”

“Shiratorizawa,” Tadashi said. “And you guys really don't have to come.”

“It's Saturday,” his father said. “We want to.”

“Besides,” his mother said. “I already offered Taiga a lift so he doesn't have to take the train. It will be less expensive.”

Tadashi's eyebrows went up.

“You did? When did that happen?”

Taiga shrugged.

“On the phone this afternoon.”

Tadashi's eyebrows went up  _further_ .

“You guys talk on the phone?”

Taiga looked at him like  _he_ was the weird one.

“Of course?”

“We've been texting for ages,” his mother said. 

Tadashi was suddenly nervous.

“Ages?” he said. “What about?”

His mother stood from the table, gathering plates and glasses and stacking them. She held her chin high, a coy smile on her face. A smile that said 'never you mind'. 

“This and that,” she said. “Now, excuse me. I'll clear the table.”

Taiga pushed himself up.

“I'll help,” he said, and he yanked Tadashi's dishes away before he could protest. He vanished into the kitchen behind his mother, and Tadashi could hear them whispering in there.

He scrunched up his face, and looked to his father.

“Mom _texts_ now?”

His father gave him the same coy smile as his mother. He stood up from the table and stretched out, his un-tucked suit shirt all crinkled around the middle, his top buttons undone and skew-whiff. He'd never let himself look like this in most company. Even with extended family, he insisted on making sure he was neat and put-together. In the month or so he'd known Taiga, though, he'd gradually gotten more and more unkempt whenever he came around.

It made Tadashi smile.

“News time,” his father said, walking around the table and headed for the living room. He stopped at Tadashi's shoulder and patted it. “We're looking forward to tomorrow.”

Tadashi laughed. 

“We might not win, you know. Shiratorizawa are a powerhouse.”

His father's hand squeezed his shoulder.

“That's not why we're looking forward to it.”

And he walked to his  favorite chair and turned on the TV.

 

 

***

 

 

The door to his room was open.

That was the deal, and a big deal was made about it.

Taiga could spend the rest of his visit in Tadashi's room as long as the door stayed open, and they didn't do anything they wouldn't mind his mother walking in on. They'd both blushed and yessed their way through the conversation, pretending like they'd  _never do anything of the sort_ .

They kept half a ruler's gap between them on the bed as they lay back, talking on and on and on about volleyball, and about dinner, and about tomorrow. Tadashi hooked his left hand around to play with Taiga's hair, and Taiga used his socked foot to tap against Tadashi's shin.

“Did you ever try on Oikawa's sponsor underwear?” Taiga said.

“No,” he said. “I think they're still in my bag.”

“Are they plain white?”

“Plain white.”

“Ugh,” Taiga said. “Boring.”

“Shall I text that to him?” Tadashi said, lifting his phone. “'Just a quick note: we've workshopped these undies and they're not entertaining enough.'”

“Yeah,” Taiga said. “Tell him they should have little volleyballs on them.”

“Or just, like...his face,” Tadashi said.

“A picture of him _wearing_ the underwear _on_ the underwear. Like gay inception.”

Tadashi stuck out his tongue.

“Ew. That sounds weird.”

He let the phone drop and winced again. Taiga lifted his head off the pillow and looked at him for a moment, his eyebrows drawn together. 

“Does it still hurt?” he said.

And before Tadashi could do anything, Taiga reached out and pressed gently on his chest. Tadashi jolted upright, his right hand flying to grab Taiga's wrist.

“AGH!” he said as a needle of pain shot through his entire body. “Yes! Of course, yes. Ouch!”

Taiga looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Sorry!” he said. “It must be a hell of a bruise.”

“Well,” Tadashi said, releasing Taiga's wrist and grabbing at the collar of his t-shirt. “I mean...”

He loosened it up with a tug and then pulled the neck downward, the springy fabric stretching almost all the way to his armpit. The skin on his chest looked like it was stained. From its usual bronze-ish gold at his collarbone, to an angry pink just below that, to a deep red across the center of his chest. Three purple lines were just beginning to blotch up where his ribcage pressed against his skin.

“Whoa,” Taiga said.

“My battle scar,” Tadashi said. Like it was a medal. Like it was a crown on his head.

“How can a volleyball even _do_ that?”

Tadashi let his collar spring back in to place.

“Noya says it's because I don't take many hits like that, so my body isn't used to it. I don't know, though. I don't think that's how skin works.”

“Still,” Taiga said, and he reached out to tug Tadashi's collar down a little. Tadashi lifted his chin so Taiga could see better. “I kind of like this. Makes you look tough. Like...tough-guy cool.”

Tadashi laughed and shook his head.

“I'm not tough,” he said. “ _Or_ cool.”

Taiga let go of his collar and leaned back.

“Yes, well, that's why I love you,” he said. “Because you don't think you're tough. Or cool. Or amazing. Or brave. Or any of the things I know you are.”

Tadashi's heart bobbled in its place for a second.

The smile on his face crept a bit wider.

“You love me, huh?”

Taiga raised an eyebrow.

“Hmmm, yes. I guess I'm the first one to say it, aren't I?”

Tadashi's smile became a grin, and he swivelled on the spot and flopped down on his pillow, both hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and let out a long, satisfied sigh. He could feel Taiga still sitting upright, next to him, staring down at him.

He let a few seconds tick by.

Then just a few more.

Then  _one last second_ , just to be funny.

“I wonder how long before it gets awkward I haven't said it back?”

He felt an incredible jolt of pain sear through his chest.

Taiga had tapped him  _right_ on the bruise.

“AGH!” he said, shooting back upright.

“ _Any_ amount of time, you ass,” Taiga said, lunging for him again.

Tadashi caught his hand before he could land another knuckle on his chest. He couldn't help laughing at Taiga's fierce eyes and teeth-bearing scowl, which only made his chest hurt more. It took him a few seconds of fending off Taiga's attacks before he could breathe properly.

“I know!” he said, wrestling Taiga's hands back. “I know, I know! I love you! I do.”

Taiga stopped struggling, and Tadashi stopped wheezing.

They were only a few inches from each other, wrists-in-hands, staring right at one another. Staring  _deeper_ than that. Like they were looking past each other's eyes and into a part of themselves only they knew about.

“I mean...” Tadashi said, his face suddenly serious. “I _love_ you.”

Taiga held still for just a second before he rushed in for a kiss. Tadashi let go of his wrists and cupped the back of his head, fingers in thick curly hair, his other hand draped across Taiga's back. Taiga wrapped his arms beneath Tadashi's armpits—looped them as far as they'd go—and squeezed.

The open door wasn't enough to stop this.

Tadashi had never said anything like 'I love you' before. He'd thought it about Taiga once or twice, but  _saying_ it was a whole other thing. And now he had, and it wasn't even his idea. 

Taiga said it first.

Taiga loved him.

Taiga  _loved_ him.

Tadashi pressed harder against Taiga's lips and took a huge breath through his nose, filling and  _filling_ his lungs until they were about to burst. Then, finally, he broke away. Leaned his forehead against Taiga's. And let the deep breath blow gently from his lips and down Taiga's chin, and chest, and between them both.

“Well,” Taiga said, loosening his hands from around Tadashi's back and wrapping them around his wrists. “I'm glad we agree.”

A clattering noise from the living room wafted through the hallway and into Tadashi's room, and he was sure he heard the sound of couch cushions shifting. They both jolted at the sound and unhooked themselves from each other—the open door suddenly working the way his parents wanted it to.

“But so we're clear,” Tadashi said, brushing a piece of hair out of Taiga's eyes. “I mostly love you for your money. Is that cool?”

Taiga gently punched his arm.

“That's okay. I only love you for your fame.”

“We're a rich and famous power couple.”

“Hm,” Taiga said. “TadAiga, they'll call us.”

“TaigaGuchi.”

Taiga flopped down on the bed, and Tadashi followed him.

The poster of  _Juviana_ hung just over Taiga's left shoulder.

“I'm excited, you know,” Taiga said. 

“Hm?”

“Just in general. About what happens next.”

“At tomorrow's match, you mean?”

“That, too,” he said, and he nestled into the pillow with tightly-closed eyes. “It makes me want to go to sleep so tomorrow will get here faster.”

Tadashi stared at Taiga's fluttering eyelids.

At his slowly rising-and-falling chest.

At his hands, limp in between their bodies.

He reached out and wrapped them up in his palms, then let the pillow take all the weight of his head.

He was glad he never took down that poster.

“Me too,” he said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to post acknowledgements and notes as a separate chapter as soon as I have it all together.
> 
> For now, if you ever read even one sentence of this story: THANK YOU.


	33. [Acknowledgements, Thank Yous and FAQ]

 

[This section used to be a lot longer but I have cut it down to sap the self-indulgence from it, haha.]

 

**Thank yous, Acknowledgements**

 

To LordBeatrice, for giving me the idea in the first place. For listening to me prattle on and on and ON over instant messenger. For putting up with me thinking out loud for literal hours on end over coffee and biscuits. For ever being there to listen when I have things that I MUST RANT ABOUT. Thank you so much. Everyone should go and check out her totally cute and lovely stories and tell her I sent you.

 To everyone I know in real life who somehow wound up here, whether because I accidentally led you to it or you figured it out or because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Thanks for being a sport. _Don't ever let anyone connect my real name to this name holy shit I'm not even joking just don't do it_.

 To the folks over at /r/fanfiction and /r/haikyuu on reddit, who listen to me rant and rave all the time and never ask me to shut up. I won't start listing usernames because there are sooo many and I'll miss someone, but special credit to /u/deejaymil for playing such a huge role in reinvigorating the fanfic subreddit _just_ when I came on to the scene.

 Thanks to Furudate for Haikyuu. You're the man, man.

 And finally—and I'm being absolutely, totally serious here—the biggest thank you to everyone who ever read even so much as a paragraph of this story. I reply to all your comments. I say it all the time, but I really hope you know I mean it. You guys are everything. The reception for this fic has been _so_ amazing. It's one of the most commented on fics in the whole fandom (sure half of them are my replies, but that's STILL an incredible amount of comments, and it's all part of the discussion you guys are having with me, and I love it). That's all because of you, and i'll forever and ever and EVER be grateful for it.

 You're all the best. You all made this possible.

 You're the Taiga to my Tadashi.

 

* * *

 

**Sequel? What's next?**

 

Let's rip the band aid off here: there'll be no direct sequel to OUT. This story is done. Dunzo. It finishes in the happiest place possible. All the threads are tied. Everyone's satisfied. We're going to leave it there forever.

 A little while back I blocked out how I _might_ do a sequel to this, but it turned out awful. You guys don't want to read it, trust me. It's a time skip. It's about how first and early victories are often followed by recriminations and fights. It's about how high school romances, as a rule, don't last. Not even ones that started out as childhood sweethearts. I don't want to sort of...ruin the tone of this story by carrying it on with drama and sadness.

 A sequel would ultimately have a happy ending. But it would be so vastly different to this story, and I'd not have the energy for it. Besides, I'd have to smash a few ships apart and nobody likes doing that.

 HOWEVER.

 I do have plans for a spiritual sequel. It takes place in this universe. It's not about Tadashi and Taiga—though they'll probably feature in the story.

 It's about Kenma and Hinata.

 At this stage it's called _BLUSH! In Three Volumes_ , and it's heavily based on shounen-ai manga. It's even _about_ shounen-ai manga. It's going to be a bit more fanciful than this story, which was very much grounded in reality. It's basically about Hinata trying to use a shounen-ai manga as a kind of guidebook for falling in love with Kenma to see if he can make it work.

 I've got no timeframe for posting this at the moment unfortunately, but I _will_ put an update on the end of this story when I do. So if you want a notification for it I think it'll pop up if you subscribe to the story here, or subscribe to my username I guess. Sometime in the future! Don't know when! But sometime!

 

* * *

  

 

 Thank you again for reading this story.

 Thank you if you've ever commented. Thank you if you've ever contributed fan art. Thank you if you've ever recommended it to someone you thought would like it, or thought it might help.

 

This would probably be a great place to leave questions if you have any that aren't related to whatever chapter of the story you're reading! I'll always answer. I'm an answer-er.

 

 This is Haru,

 Signing off for the last time.


	34. BLUSH announcement

I don't know if this is allowed, is it? It seems weird, but I DID promise I'd do it. I sincerely apologize if this sends a bunk notification to any readers who aren't interested!

 

So I promised I'd post this extra update when I began posting the sequel to this fic, and I forgot ALL about it! Sorry for that!

 

I know user subscriptions will have notified many people already, but there were those who were subscribed to this story and wanted to know when BLUSH!! was going up.

 

Well, good news. BLUSH!! has gone up, and you can[ read it here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8059804/chapters/18466729)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for putting up with me! This is the last update to this fic ever, I swear. 
> 
> I truly hope those who follow me over to the new story enjoy it, too!


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